


Hyacinths and Daisies

by Idiotcheese



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Because I am a sod, Coping with PTSD, Coping with anxiety, Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Flowers, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Homophobia, Human, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), I Will Go Down With This Ship, I certainly dont., Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Intrusive Thoughts, Language of Flowers, Lawyers, Light Angst, London, M/M, Negative Thoughts, Omens, Plant Shop, Plant facts, Plants, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queen music, Scottish Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Burn, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Welsh Aziraphale (Good Omens), Will there be eventual smut?, flower store, gingers have souls, lots of references!, may ensue, mentions of abuse, mentions of trauma, please leave feedback!, who knows!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:33:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idiotcheese/pseuds/Idiotcheese
Summary: Ezra Fell's next door neighbor is opening a plant shop, and whilst Mr. Anthony Crowley is a bit obnoxious and unruly at times... He's also quite charming- despite the secrecy and consequence of his own past.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 43





	1. Forsythia

**Author's Note:**

> I know the bookkeeper\Gardener AU in Good Omens is a bit common, but I wanted to try my hand at it. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (also: this fic will discuss themes of homophobia, domestic abuse, PTSD, anxiety, alcoholism, derogatory\offensive language and many other topics that may be deemed unsuitable for certain readers. tread carefully!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forsythia; Symbolizes Anticipation and new beginnings.

Ezra

A knock at the front door took Ezra away from his book. It was nine in the morning, and even at that- a very rare hour for people to come knocking at his apartment door. Straightening his sweater, he got off his sofa and walked to the door, opening it slowly, as not to let the cold air in.  
“Can I help you?” Ezra asked. A lean man in his mid thirties stood in the doorway, looking surprised that Ezra had even answered the door. He had a pair of dark shades on his freckled face and a head of dark red hair pulled up in a low knot.  
“Uhh, hi. Names Crowley, I just moved in next door and I was wondering if you knew the landlord’s number?” The man had a northern accent with the tiniest hint of scottish mixed in there.  
“Ms. Tracy? Why yes, she’s my landlord as well, I can get you her number.” Ezra responded, pulling his eyes off the stranger.  
“Thanks. I'm having trouble with air conditioning and I wanted to give her a call.” Crowley said, sticking his hands in his pockets. Ezra ran back inside and grabbed his address book off the side table to his sofa, returning to the doorway with it in hand. Typically, Ezra would be more cautious leaving his apartment door wide open with a stranger on his step, but the man's demeanor seemed less aggressive. Needless to say, this “Crowley” character seemed less than likely to be trying to break into his beloved home.  
“Goodness, where are my manners? My name is Ezra Fell.” Ezra stuck his hand out politely, Crowley shook it, his nails were painted black.  
“Crowley. Er, well I guess I already told you that, huh?” Crowley smiled, taking his hand back so he could finish entering Tracy’s number into his book, leaning in the doorframe.  
“I noticed a lot of moving vehicles leaving boxes off the other day. Are you going to be living next door?” Ezra asked lightly, hoping he wasn't prying too much.  
“No, I'm staying in a hotel right now. The place next door’s gonna be my shop.”  
“A shop? What are you selling?”  
“Plant shop, I suppose. Most of those boxes that were being unloaded yesterday were supplies and such for it. I'm not gonna have it open for a while now, I still have a ways to go in terms of unpacking.” Crowley handed the address book back to Ezra.  
“Well, if you need any help, you can come and find me, I’m more than happy to help.”  
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Crowley stuffed his phone back into his pocket.  
“I’ll let you know if I need a move in crew, thanks a lot, Ezra.”  
“Of course, have a nice day dear.”  
Crowley gave Ezra a thin smile and turned around on the sidewalk, walking casually away. Ezra watched as he disappeared into the shop next door before gently closing the door behind him.

The rest of Ezra's weekend was extremely uneventful. He couldn't get himself back into his book as the obnoxious banging that was occurring next door was more than distracting. Living in Soho, noise never typically phased Ezra, as the cars and crowds outside in the city were common, but whatever was occurring next door was uncanny. After a while, the thudding stopped and for a brief second there was silence. Ezra began to relax into the lack of noise when there was another loud thud followed by a muffled _“fuck!”_ . Ezra put his book down and sat up, he went to grab his coat, but did not, figuring he was going next door. He walked out onto the street, shutting his door behind him and walked over to the shop next door. The front windows were still covered, but the glass on the front door made it easy to peek inside (with the exception of the large “Sold!” sign plastered on it.) Ezra knocked lightly and within seconds a ruffled Crowley opened the door, flinging it open.  
“Hiya.”  
“Is everything alright?” Ezra asked.  
“Yep, why?”  
“Well I heard a lot of noise and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”  
“Oh yeah, everything's fine,dont worry about it. I’m just not the best with power tools, that's all. Sorry for disturbing you again.” Crowely rubbed the back of his neck.  
“It's alright. I have some experience with power tools if you’d like me to assist.”  
Crowley looked flushed.  
“Uh, sure. Yeah, that’d be great.” Crowley held the door open, letting Ezra inside.

The inside of the building was grey and extremely vacant with the exception of boxes on the floor and several unpacked plants, as well as an assortment with power tools scattered on the floor next to a somewhat dilapidated shelf.

“Is this what you’re putting together?” Asked Ezra, kneeling down and picking up an electric screwdriver. “Yeah. It's ikea.”  
“I beg your pardon?” Ezra asked. Crowley gave him a funny look from behind his sunglasses.  
“Ikea? The furniture place?”  
“I’ve never heard of it.”  
“Huh. Okay. Well, anyways, it came with instructions but they’re all in swedish and I haven't a single clue what to do.” Crowley handed Ezra a poorly folded instruction pamphlet. Sure enough, it was written in swedish.  
“I'm afraid I don't know swedish myself, but I can give it a try.”  
“Brilliant.”  
Ezra kneeled down on the floor, inspecting the semi assembled shelf. Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley leaned against the wall of the shop, watching Ezra intently as he fiddled with the hardware.  
Within minutes of chatting and messing with the screwdriver, Crowley’s shelf was nearly fully assembled.  
“Impressive, it actually looks like a shelf now.” Crowley jokes.  
“Why thank you.” Ezra grinned, setting the shelf upright. “Do you have anything else that needs assembling?”  
“Nothing I can think of right now, no, but thank you for helping me.”  
“Of course,”  
Ezra removed himself from the floor, adjusting the hem of his sweater.  
“Hey, uh, Ezra?” Crowley asked cautiously. Ezra looked at him.  
“Yes?”  
“I was wondering if you’re, um, busy tonight?” Crowley adjusted his sunglasses. Ezra thought for a moment before replying,  
“Unfortunately yes, but I’m free tomorrow after work.”  
“Great. Um, would you like to maybe go out for something to drink or something?”  
Ezra felt his heart warm at the statement.  
“That would be lovely.”  
Crowley looked a bit surprised. “Great. Um, is six o’ clock good? I can meet you here?”  
“Sure. see you then, Crowley.” Ezra gave him a light smile and a wave before heading out the store door.

Anthony

The second the door closed, Crowley smacked his head against the wall.  
“Holy shit, now you’ve done it.” He wheezed. _What the hell am I thinking? Why did I ask him that? Why did he say yes?!_ Crowley took a minute to attempt to gather his thoughts but immediately went back to a mindless panic of racing thoughts. _You’ve known the guy for what, six hours? And you asked him out to dinner? You idiot!_ Crowley leaned over and adjusted the newly assembled shelf so it leaned against the blank wall just like him. _You better not fuck this up Anthony._

The daylight outside the shop slowly drained to night, and Crowley locked the place up. He walked out to the curbside on the other end of the block and hopped into his car, which started up with a smooth rumble before cruising down the street and away from the shop and Ezra’s apartment. Desperate to escape the static silence of the street, he messed with the cassette player in his dashboard. There was the automatic rewinding of the tape before the cassette continued to play. At first it sounded like Mozart’s “Piano Sonata Number 16,” but a few notes in and the tape screeched and began playing over it.

_No beginning, there’s no ending._  
_There’s no meaning in my pretending._  
_Believe me, life goes on and on and on._  
_Forgive me when I ask you_  
_Where do I belong?_

  
Shit, must have taped over this one. Crowley smacked the “off button” on the cassette player. While Queen was his style, he didn't feel like being called out by Freddie Mercury to the sound of Roger Taylor’s screeching falsetto. Within minutes he was at the hotel. It took a good seven minutes to find a parking spot to accompany the Bentley before he was actually able to get out and walk into the hotel. He gave a small wave of acknowledgment to the kid working the front desk before taking the elevator up to the sixth floor.

After the door shut, Crowley whipped out his phone and typed in a familiar number. There was ringing for a good thirty seconds or so until the line was picked up.  
“Oh great, it's you.” The groggy voice of Beez groaned.  
“Hi Beatrice.” Crowley smiled into his phone.  
“You better stop calling me that or I’ll rip your throat out with a stapler.” Beez hissed.  
“Oof, harsh. Anyways Beez, wanna take a guess while I’m calling?” Crowley sprawled out on the bed.  
“No.”  
“Come on, guess. Don't be an asshole.”  
“Fine. Let me guess you got a parking ticket and forgot your wallet again.”  
“Nope.”  
“Then I have no fucking clue.”  
“Fine. I’ll just tell you then. I got myself date.”  
There was silence on the other end of the phone.  
“Yeah right.”  
“I’m dead serious.”  
“Crowley, you’ve been in Soho for like, what, two minutes? How the hell did you manage to get a date that fast?”  
“What can I say? Im a player.” Crowley jokes.  
“Yeah right.” Beez scoffed. “Who is it then?”  
“Uh… my neighbor.” Crowley answered cautiously. Beez let out a loud cackle of laughter on the other end of the phone.  
“What? Why are you laughing?!” Crowley demanded, sitting upright in bed.  
“Some ‘player’ you are.” Beez managed between wheezes of laughter.  
“Don't be an asshole, Beez.”  
“I’m not! It's just that-'' Beez broke off into a series of snickers.  
“Just what?”  
“Nevermind.” Beez managed to contain their laughter. “I gotta go, Crowley. Have fun on your *snickers* date.” Beez hung up, Crowley’s phone beeping before going silent. Crowley ran his hands through his hair. _Ugh, this is really is ridiculous, isn't it?_


	2. Centauria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Centauria: Represents excitement, anticipation and impatience.

Ezra

  


Ezra walked into the office feeling almost giddy. It has been entirely too long since he’s been able to get out of the house. Sure, he went to work and back, but he hadn't been out to eat with anyone in quite some time.

“You seem chipper.” Ana remarked as Ezra strolled in.

“Hello Anathema, how are you today?” Ezra smiled politely.

“I’m fine, thank you. I have your papers for today right here.” Anathema rummaged behind her desk and pulled out an orange folder. “I’ll give them to you if you tell me what's going on.” Anathema held them teasingly out of Ezra's reach.

“Come on now Anathema.” 

“I’ll give them to you once you tell me what's gotten you so squirrely this morning.”

“I am not giddy!”

“Now that's a lie and you know it, Fell. You basically skipped in here.” Anathema effused.

“Fine, I'll tell you, as long as you give me my work so Gabriel isn’t bothering me all day.” Ezra huffed. “I’m going out to dinner tonight.”

“That's it? That's all?” Anathema raised an eyebrow, seeing right through Ezra.

“No… It's, um, well, it's with my neighbor, I suppose.”  
“Ohhhhh.” Anathema grinned smugly. Ezra gave her a look.

“Whatever does that mean?”

“Is he cute?” 

“Anathema!” Ezra shushed her, his face getting hot. 

“Well is he?”

“That is none of your concern. I refuse to tell you anymore.”

Anathema slid the file over to Ezra in defeat, him taking it from the secretary briskly.

“I bet he is.”  
“Will you hush now? I have work to do.”   
“Whatever you say, Mr. Fell.”   
Flustered but still beaming, Ezra walked through the lobby of the office and into the office itself.

  


The files for today were nothing more than a few small press release forms, but nothing else that had to be done immediately. The Coleum press released two papers a week. One on Wednesdays and one on Sundays. Being Monday morning, the weekend’s paper had already been reviewed, produced, printed and distributed. So needless to say there was little work to be done. Ezra looked across the office. Uriel was sitting behind her desk, eyes glued to her desktop computer typing away. Sandy was nowhere to be seen, probably with Gabriel. Slowly, Ezra pulled his book out from under his desk and resumed reading where he had left off on Friday. Reading made his slow work days go by the tiniest bit faster, and today, Ezra wanted to clock out as soon as possible. He tried to focus in his book, but all of his thoughts trailed back to Anathema’s teasing. _He is “cute” I suppose._ Ezra had only known Crowley a good day and a half or so, but thinking about going out to eat with him was quite exciting. _It's not really a date is it? Is my life so stiff and boring that going out to eat with my neighbor is exciting?_ The sound of stocky footsteps echoing through the office pulled Ezra from his thoughts, slipping his decoy book back under his desk. Gabriel was at the front desk, trying to talk to Anathema, who looked very annoyed at his presence. Ezra was never one to gossip or slander anyone, but both he and Anathema both shared conversations about Gabriel’s lack of empathy towards his employees. Every other day there was a dramatic speech about how the press needed to “work harder if we want to get in the big leagues.” Getting to the “big leagues,” of course was Gabriel’s plan to make the Coleum press just as popular as the “The Daily Mirror'' or “The Daily Telegraph.” Sandy, Uriel and the rest of the office (with the exception of Ezra and Anathema, of course,) seemed to think Capitalizing the once family owned business was a grand idea. Gabriel’s “great plan” was just one example of how unlevel headed that man could be.

“Ezra Fell, good to see you.” Gabriel smiled so hard you could see his back molars. </

“Hello Gabriel.”

“Working hard or hardly working?”

“Working hard of course. Lots of erm,” Ezra slipped a glance at his still closed file. “Press report confirmations.”  
“Great! Good to see it.” Gabriel patted Ezra on the back so hard it felt like a slap before strolling away to talk to Uriel. Ezra let out a huff, and looked over to Anathema, who looked back at Ezra and made a strangling motion towards Gabriel. Ezra chuckled, covering his mouth so Gabriel didn't hear.

  


By four PM, Ezra was able to slip out of work. A fun perk of having your friend as the company secretary, was that she would let you sneak out early and get away with it. Ezra walked out of the Coleum and down the street to the bus stop, which was full of impatient London tourists and a handful of locals in their business wear. After a minute or so of waiting in the chilly open air, the red bus eventually rolled up to the curb, the next stop stated in its fluorescent lights being Soho.

  


Anthony

  


Anthony's entire day was relatively productive, or atleast the morning was. He woke up at the hotel, took his time getting ready and rearranging the complimentary minibar. Anything to kill an hour or two. He made his way downstairs around nine and stopped at the front desk. The same kid from last night was still there, seemingly doing homework on the side of the desk. He pushed it away when Crowley came up.

“Hello sir, how can I help you?” The kid asked. His little golden name tag said “Newton Pulsifer.”

“Uhh yeah, hi. What's your guy's deal with parking? Do I have to pay extra to get a good spot or…”

“Oh. We have two different parking deals. Regular, which is what I’m assuming you have now, which is 5 pounds a day, and the luxury deal is 20 a day, but you get to park right out front whenever.” 

Crowley subconsciously patted his back pocket where his wallet was.

“Uh- I think I’ll stick with the regular. Thanks though.”  
“No problem.” 

Crowley spun on his heels and bumped shoulders with a girl.

“Oh- sorry!” She apologized. She had a dress that looked like something out of the Eighteen Hundreds and an American accent, as well as a pair of very round glasses.

“It's fine.” Crowley mumbled as the girl walked over to the front desk and began chatting with Newton, whom Crowley noticed had immediately turned beet red at the girl’s arrival. _Sucker._ Crowley thought. _Though, I guess I’m not too much better myself._

  


By the time Crowley made it to Soho, it was one in the afternoon, and parking the Bentley was much easier than at the hotel. The shop was just as vacant as he had left it, the new shelf still lying on the floor in the back. He rolled up his sleeves and began to work on unpacking the boxes. Their contents were mostly planters and a few grow lights, but there were a few surprise items as well that he had completely forgotten about, including a bluetooth speaker for the shop and some new English check books. Crowley’s biggest purchase, the actual counter itself for the shop, wasn't arriving until late November. Only being mid October, he had a ways to go. He arranged the things the best he could in the empty store and spent time checking his phone before realising it was nearly four o’clock. _Shit. Still two hours to go._ The sound of a soft knock on the shop door caught his attention and he walked over to the glass door. _Damn, Ezras early._

“Hello Crowley.” Ezra smiled as Crowley opened the door. He had a cream colored petticoat on as well as a light blue business tie.

“Hiya Ezra. You’re here a bit early, aren’t you?”  
Ezra looked scared for a minute.

“I'm terribly sorry! I didn't mean to barge in on you two hours early,”

“It's fine.”  
“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don't worry about it. I don't have much to do.” 

“Alright. Should we head out now?” Ezra asked.

“Well if you want to get dinner, I’d wait until six at least. I don't think most restaurants that serve dinner around here are open yet. It's too early.”

“Okay, so what would you like to do?”

“Up to you. Do you wanna go walk around? I'm new to Soho so I don't personally know much about it here.” Crowley suggested.

“Oh sure. As a matter of fact, there's this darling little cafe down the street from here that's usually open around now. Would you like to go there?”

“Sure. Just give me a second to lock up. Not that there's anything in here for someone to steal but um, still.”   
“Alright. I’ll run next door and put my briefcase down in the meanwhile.” With that, Ezra left the shop and Crowley let out a light sigh. _Goddamn he’s so proper._ Crowley pulled the keys out of his pocket and messed with the front door until it locked tight with a “click!” Ezra was already waiting for him. 

“Shall we?” Ezra smiled. Anthony couldn't help but smile back.

“Of course.”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ("Coleum" is a Latin Phrase for "Heaven.") ;)


	3. Lilium Orientalis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilium Orientalis (aka the 'stargazer lily') symbolises Optimism, Limitless opportunities, and heavenly fictions.

Ezra

“So Crowley, sorry for prying, but I don't believe I caught your last name.” Ezra asked as they walked down the street. 

“Crowleys’ actually my last name.”

“Oh, what's your first name then?”

“Anthony. Anthony J Crowley.”

“What does the ‘J’ stand for?” 

Crowley let out a little laugh. “Funny enough it’s just ‘Jay.’”

“That's very clever. Are you Italian by any chance?” Ezra asked as they walked side by side.

“Pardon?”

“I was just wondering because Anthony’s a very Italian name.”

“Oh yeah. I might be a little Italian. I don't quite know though, as far as I’m concerned all of my family’s from Scotland. Are you from England yourself?” He asked.

“No, actually. I’m Welsh, but I spent most of my years in London.”  
“So what brought you out to Soho?”

The two had reached the cafe. They took a seat at one of the outside tables.

“Working at the press as an assistant doesn't quite pay enough for me to live in central London, and I’m afraid as much as I enjoyed my childhood in Wales, I find the city more comfortable, and Tracy’s rent much more affordable.” Ezra picked up his menu. “You moved here from Scotland, you said?”  
“Yeah. I uh, like it there I guess.”

“So what brought you to England besides your shop?”

Crowley swallowed. “I dont have the uh- best situation back at home.”  
Aziraphale looked up at him with a frown.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Don't be, it's a long story- the whole thing. Frankly I’d just like to forget about it.” Crowley leaned back in his chair, not even bothering to look at his menu. A waitress walked up to their table.

“Hello Gentlemen, what can I do for you today?”

“I’ll have the crumbulet if that’s alright.” Ezra handed her his menu.

“Of course. And you, sir?”

“Just a black coffee.”

“Alright, I’ll have ‘em out in just a minute.” The woman walked away, and Crowley turned back to Ezra.

“So anyways, you said you work at a press, right?”  
“Oh yes, the Coleum. Have you heard of it?” Ezra asked. Crowley shook his head.

“I can't say I have. Do you write articles?”

“Occasionally. I’m usually stuck with paperwork and filing, which is alright and all but not always the best. Frankly I’d enjoy my job much more if it weren't for my boss.”

“What's their problem?”  
“Gabriel? Oh, don't get me started.” Ezra chuckled. “He has this great idea that the Coleum’s going to be famous one day, so he constantly overworks us and has us on our feet.”  
“That sucks.”

“Why yes, it does. I hate to talk ill of other people but he and I don't see eye to eye. And it's probably a good thing, otherwise I wouldn’t have made friends with Anathema.”

“Anathema? Doesn't that mean “shunned” or “disliked”? Biblically speaking, that is?” Crowley asked. 

“Yes, I believe it does. Were you raised Catholic?”  
“Not strictly, but I’ve been to church a few times, you?”  
The waitress returned, setting the crumble and Crowley’s drink on the table top.

“My family was very religious, yes. Though I will admit church wasn’t my favorite thing to attend, I did like the stories and whatnot. As a matter of fact my confirmation name I chose at the time was ‘Aziraphale.’”“Guardian of the Eastern gate?”

“Mm hm. Silly, isn't it?”

“Not really, it fits you.” Crowley took a long sip of his coffee. 

“You think so?” Ezra asked.

“Yeah I’d say. You definitely strike me as an “Aziraphale.”

“How so?” Ezra took a bite of his crumbulet. Crowley’s face turned the tiniest shade of pink behind his dark glasses as he took a moment to respond.

“I dunno. You just do.”

“Ah, well I’ll take that as a complement.”

“Please do. I’ll have to start calling you ‘angel’ from now on.” Crowley stopped himself from talking any more, looking quite embarrassed and pink from his statement and no longer quite suave. It was rather quite cute.

“I think I’d like that, actually.” Ezra took another bite of his food. Crowley stared at him blankly.

“Wot?”

“You can call me that, if you’d like. I’ve never had a nickname before. It's always just been 'Ezra' or ‘Mr. Fell.’” 

Crowley seemingly took a moment to process Ezra’s response before responding lightly to him.

“Right, Angel it is then.” 

The two of them sat at the cafe counter for a good hour, mindlessly chatting when Crowley’s phone rang to the tune of a rock song Ezra didnt recognize. Crowley pulled his iphone out of his pocket and looked at it quickly, before looking back at Ezra.   
“I’ll call ‘em back later.” Crowley cllicked his phone off.

“Are you sure? You can take your call if you must, I dont mind.”  
Crowley shook his head. “Nah, i doubt its anything serious. Its just my friend Beez.”   
“Beez?” 

“Beatrice. We call them Beez.”

“Ah, I see.” Ezra had just finished his desert when the waitress returned.

“Are you two ready for the check?”  
“Yes, that’d be great.” Ezra went to dig his wallet out of his coat when Crowley had already slipped the waitress his credit card.

“Its on me, Angel.” Crowley said casually.

“Really Crowley, I could’ve paid for it.”  
“Nonsense, it’s my treat.” 

Ezra swore he could have seen Crowley wink at him through his dark shades. Crowley's phone started to ring violently again, tearing them both away from their moment. Crowley picked it up.   
“What?” he asked impatiently to whoever was on the other end. There was indistinct chatter Ezra couldn’t quite make out. 

“Look, Beez, I’ll call you back later- hows twenty minutes from now? Ten? Alright, fine.” Crowley ended his call and stuffed his phone in his pant pocket.

“Sorry Ezra, they want me to call them back ASAP, I’m afraid I can't stay around too much longer.” Ezra felt his chest sink a little bit.

“That's quite alright, I should be heading back to my apartment anyways.”'

“I’ll walk you home if you’d like.”

“I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice dear, we are neighbors after all.”

The waitress gave Crowley his credit card back and the two of them stood from their seats and began their brief walk back to their end of Soho.  
  



	4. Yellow Dianthus caryophyllus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yellow Dianthus caryophyllus (or "yellow carnations") symbolise unresolved toil and disdain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Light warning for this chapter: Though it is brief, we begin to learn about Crowley's past and the trauma that corrosponds with it. Although there is nothing explicit or particularly triggering in this chapter, I will warn you now that there are some light references to trauma, and to potentially expect more in the future.)

After saying goodbye to Ezra, and watching him return home, Crowley slid into his Bentley and opened his phone to four missed calls. He dialed Beez back. The phone only rang for a few split seconds.

“Jesus christ, finally you pick up.” Beez barked from the other end of the line.

“What is it, Beez? I was busy.” Crowley asked. “You’re not going to like this.” Beez mumbled. “Jeez, Beez, just tell me what it is? You interrupted my date for this.” well, I’m not too sure if it was a “date-date” or just a friendly outing, but I’d like to think of it as a “date-date.” There was a second of silence on the other line of the phone, before Beez responded.

“Your dad came looking for you today.”

Crowley felt himself stop breathing.

“What?” He managed, listening to Beez sign on the other end of the line.

“He showed up at my place looking for you. I told him I didn't know where you are.” Crowley let his head hit the headrest of his seat.

“Thank sweet satan.” He sighed, feeling a bit relieved.

“Crowley, I don't know how much longer I’ll be able to play this off.”

“Just keep telling him i’m MIA.”

“Trust me, I can do that, but I’m concerned he’ll find you himself, with or without my help.” Beez responded.

“He doesn't have a phone, so it's not like he can track my location or something.”

“But what if he finds someone who can? Crowley, I’m really worried, and that means alot coming from someone like me.” Beez’s voice cracked a bit, making something sad stir even more so in Crowley's chest. 

“I’ll be okay, Beez. I can handle this now that he’s not here.”

“Fine. Whatever you say, Crowley. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

“Mkay.”

“And if he figures out where you are, tell me and you’re more than welcome to move back to my place and hide.” Crowley nodded lightly, as if Bees could see him through his phone.

“Right, thanks Beez.” The phone shut off with a beep and Crowley leaned forwards, letting his forehead rest against the leather steering wheel of his Bentley and closing his eyes and listening to the Soho traffic. He sat like that for a good while, just listening to his own silence before taking a deep breath and starting the car. The motor groaned to life and the dashboard cassette player began playing mid song as he drove away from Ezra’s apartment and the shop.

_...Serpent of the Nile,_

_Relieve me for a while, And cast me from your spell,_

_And let me go..._


	5. Alstroemeria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alstroemeria: symbolises likeliness and compatibility, as well as friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Brief mentions of blood, intrusive thoughts and (unintentional) self harm as well as smoking.  
> (dont do drugs kids!)

Ezra

  
  


The next day Ezra got to work, Anathema was sitting at the front desk with a smug look on her face.

“What is it now?” Ezra asked sarcastically, though he knew exactly what she was going to mention.

“Your date? How was it?” She asked slyly, watching as Ezra took his file off the front desk, this time without any trouble from said receptionist.

“It was nice.”  
“Where'd they take you?”

“A cafe.”  
“Which one?”   
“Must I tell you everything?”   
“Yep.”

Ezra huffed, acting annoyed by Anathema’s teasing, but deep down feeling more than happy to talk.

“The little one down by Crown street and thirty second.”  
“I’ve never been there, but then again Newt only wants takeout every night, so why am I surprised?” She huffed. Ezra gave her a smile before heading back to his desk before she could conjure up any more questions, after all, he did have to actually “work” sometimes at work. He had a whole day to get his files done, and although it was a brisk task, it was very inconvenient, as he had to hand them directly to Gabriel once they were done. Ezra gave a polite wave to Uriel as he sat down at his desk. Uriel responded to him with a moody stare, before returning back to their own work. Ezra managed to have all his press files filled out in a matter of minutes, carefully paperclipping each set into place before closing the file on his desktop. Everyone else in the Coleum did most of their work on computers, these big white panels at the end of their desks, but Ezra never developed a fondness for these high tech devices, and much rather preferred doing any written work by hand. Luckily for him, the office printer had been broken the last week after Anathema’s boyfriend, newton, stopped to pay a visit and accidently shattered the printing device. Having nowhere to print his digital copies paperwork, Ezra was more than happy to write it all by hand, though it proved difficult not to write in his usual cursive, as Gabriel had complained that it was “unintelligible” on previous occasions. Although Uriel, Micheal, and just about everyone in the office hated that they couldn't print their digital work anymore, Ezra found it quite ironic that a press didn’t even have a printer. 

File completed and ready to be handed in to Gabriel, Ezra stalled by watching the minute hands on the office wall clock make slow repetitive loops. How badly he wanted to leave the press for the day, head back to his apartment and cozy up with a novel.If he was feeling brave, he could even invite Crowley over, all of which without the judging and critical eyes of his coworkers. After waiting what had to be a good half hour, Ezra stood from his chair and brought the file to the doors that separated gabriel’s office from the rest of the workroom. He knocked, and there was a muffled “come in, make it quick.” from the other side. Ezra opened the door to Gabriel’s office. His boss was on his laptop behind his desk, not even bothering to look up at his employee who shuffled into the room.

“I signed off this week’s press release forms.” Ezra put the file neatly on Gabriel’s desk, Gabriel didn't look up from his computer as he gave a quick “good,” before returning to typing. Something stuck in Ezra’s throat that made him feel like staying and lecturing his boss on his lack of basic etiquette, but he sighed and walked out without a scuffle. _I couldn't do that even if I tried._ Ezra thought as he returned to his own desk. _Crowley probably could. He doesn't strike me as the kind who gets scared easily._ Mind drifting off to rose tinted thoughts of his new neighbor, Ezra pulled out his back-up book from under his desk and proceeded to pretend he was busy.

  
  


Anthony

The final few boxes of stuff came in the mail to the shop that day. Crowley was quick to unpack the contents and put them in their proper spots for the moment being until his counter and such arrived. The entire time he cut open the packaging tape on each box, his mind drifted between thoughts of Ezra so chipper he could blush, and more foreign thoughts about what Beez said was going on back at home. _That's not your home anymore, dumbass._ Crowley thought to himself. _We’ve been over this a hundred times. Its not home._ Amidst his mindless thinking, Crowley felt a sharp pain in his finger that shook him back to reality, having accidentally sliced his knuckles with his box cutter. 

“Fuck!” Crowley hissed, not sure if he should hold his finger or not. The cut didn't look deserve enough for stitches, but was still deep enough to draw a steady drip of blood that dripped onto the hardwood floor. Crowley reached down with his good hand and untied his boots, quickly pulling off his sock and wrapping it around his bleeding hand. The pressure from the makeshift bandage didn't make the cut feel any less painful, but it atleast stopped the blood from dripping down his arm.

“I’m a wreck.” Crowley said to himself, his voice echoing lightly through the rather undeveloped shop. Deciding that wasting his other good sock wasn’t the best option, crowley found a rag he had been using to dust and wiped up the few drops of blood from the floor. _I need a smoke._ Digging through his jacket’s pocket, he pulled out a loose cigarette and his old lighter and stepped outside.

The soho air was cold as Crowley leaned against the exterior of his new shop, right in between were his walls ended and Ezra’s began. Crowley managed to ignite his lighter without hurting his hand any more than needed, and cupped the flame as he lit his cigarette. He took a deep breath in and blew it out slowly, trying to focus on something else. _I wonder if Ezra will mind that I smoke? I dont smoke often, but still._ He wondered, pulling the cigarette back up to his lips for another drag. _What does it matter, It's not like he likes you back._ A voice responded. Crowley squeezed his eyes shut for a second behind his glasses, almost as if it would make it all go away.


	6. Helleborus Nigerium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helleborus Nigerium: (AKA the "Christmas Rose.") Symbolises Anxiety, and concealed affections.

Ezra

One by one, the lights in the building went off. Ezra looked up from his desk as the office corrupted in confused murmurs. Gabriel’s office doors flung open.

“What the hell happened to the electricity?” He barked, looking around the office. Nobody said a word. “Well?”   
A man in a reflective jacket came out of the dark entryway.

“Sorry folks, the building’s generator blew while we were working on it. I doubt we’ll be able to get power back until tomorrow.”

“Since when was there ever a problem with the buildings generator?” Gabriel snapped at the electrician in his harsh American accent.

“We got reports from people on the second floor that they’ve been having power issues. We checked the generator and it was full of rats, they must have chewed some wires.” The electrician responded cooly. The office erupted in disappointed mumbles as the electrician left Gabriel standing flustered in the doorway. 

“First the printer, now this?” Anathema huffed, having been eating her lunch at Ezra's desk when the lights went out.    
“This really is quite ridiculous.” Ezra responded, not taking his eyes off of Gabriel. Gabriel had a tendency to “snap” in the sense that something mildly inconvenient would happen to him and he would make it turn into a crisis in itself.

Gabriel turned around to face his disgruntled employees.

“Alright, since these idiots can't fix the power, I guess we can't work. You can pack up your things and go home early, but expect more work tomorrow!” He ordered before disappearing into his dark office. Employees began to fumble around their desks, looking to gather their things. All of Ezra’s items were already packed neatly in his briefcase, and Anathema always carried her messenger bag, so the two of them just had to find the front door to the building. After bumping into several people, they made their way to the front lobby, which was much more well illuminated than the powerless office iself, as the lobby had huge glass windows that let in the light from the city streets. 

“I don't know how I’m supposed to get home. Newt was going to pick me up after work, but now that we’re out early, he’s still probably working at the Hotel.” Said Anathema, as the two co workers entered the busy London streets. “We can go bother him if you’d like.” She grinned.

“I wouldn't want to interrupt your boyfriend at work.” Ezra responded.

“I doubt he’s doing anything important, and besides, the Hotels only a few blocks from here, and it's on the way to Soho, c’mon It’ll be fun.” Anathema grabbed Ezra’s hand and guided him through the crowded sidewalk.

“If you insist…” 

The hotel Newton worked at was very large and ornate, the kind of fancy hotel you’d expect to find off the streets of London. Anathema led Ezra to the front desk, where Newton sat hunched over his phone.

“Hey Newt.” Anathema smiled, breaking Newts attention from his device.   
“H-Hi Anathema, what are you doing here?” He stammered.

“The power went out at work, so we got to leave early. Newt, you remember Ezra Fell, right?” she gestured to Ezra.

“Yes, Hi Ezra.”   
“Hello Newton.” 

“You can just call me Newt, it's fine.” Newt fixed his work uniform, which was easily a size too large for him. Anathema leaned over the countertop and chatted with Newt just as a flash of Red caught Ezras eye. 

“Hi Angel.” Crowley sauntered up to Ezra.

“Hello Crowley, whatever are you doing here?” Ezra asked, a bit surprised to find his neighbor on this end of town. He was wearing a grungy all-black again, but it happened to complement his appearance quite well.

“This is the hotel I’m staying at.” Crowley looked across the counter and gave Newt a small wave. Anathema stood and looked between Ezra and Crowley for a moment before something clicked. 

“Oh Ezra, is this the man you went on a date with?” Anathema asked with a smug grin.

Ezra felt himself go red as he stuttered, looking for an answer. _Why on earth would she ask that_ _in front of him?!_

“Uh, yes- well-”

“Yeah we went out to a Cafe in Soho.” Crowley cut in, answering for a very flustered Ezra.

“Oh how nice.” Anathema smiled, quitting her smug act. “Ezra and I got out of work early today.”   
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Crowley asked Anathema, still facing Ezra.

“There was an Electrical issue.” Ezra managed.

“That sucks. You two work in the same place, yeah?”   
“Yep. Anathema Device, nice to meet you.” She stuck a hand out, and Crowley gave it a slow shake.

“Crowley.”   
“I knew that much.” Anathema gave Ezra a look that made him want to crawl out of his skin via embarrassment. A man behind Crowley cleared his throat impatiently, trying to get to the front desk. 

“Sorry.” Crowley side stepped out of the way, letting the man through.

“Well, I should get going- home, that is.” Said Ezra, looking for the perfect excuse to escape Anathema’s taunting demeanor. 

“I was heading back to the shop myself. I’ll walk you back.” Said Crowley, causally heading towards the spinning doors alongside Ezra, who could feel Anathema’s stare as they made their way outside. 

  
Crowley

  
  


When Crowley first ran into Ezra in the Hotel lobby, he looked a bit taken back, but now that they were outside in the street, he could see how flustered Ezra really looked.  _ Shit, did I say something wrong? _

“You okay?” Crowley asked, Ezra looked up at him.

“Oh yes, I’m fine dear. Why do you ask?”    
Crowley shrugged. “I dunno, you just seemed a bit shocked, that's all.” Crowley turned to walk towards the parking garage.   
“Where are you going?” Ezra asked.   
“To get my car, you didn’t really think I’d make you walk all the way back, did you?” Crowley responded. He grabbed the Bentley and pulled it up to the road, where Ezra gave him a surprised look as he exited the car and opened the passenger door for him.

“This is your vehicle?” 

“Yep, she sure is.”   
Ezra sat in the passenger seat, letting Crowley shut the door behind him and hopping in himself on the opposite side.

“Wherever did you manage to find a car like this?” Ezra asked, looking around the interior as Crowley started it up.    
“I had it back in Scotland, drove it here myself.”   
“Oh goodness, I imagine it took you quite a long time.”   
“I’m a fast driver. Speaking of which, I’d put your seatbelt on if I were you.”

Ezra fumbled for his seatbelt, Crowley waited for it to click before accelerating the car and beginning to drive down the busy street. It took every fiber in his body not to press the pedal to the floor and dodge the other cars like he usually got away with doing, but he kept his driving just above the speed limit for Ezra’s sake.

“Do you have any music?” Ezra asked, gesturing at that Cassette player. Crowley fixed his glasses. 

“Yeah, I have some cassettes in the glovebox.” Ezra opened the glove box and several pairs of Identical sunglasses fell out. “Under those.” Ezra pulled out a cassette and put all of Crowley’s sunglasses back before reading the tape’s name out loud. 

“‘White light by the Velvet Underground’. Is that a band?” Ezra asked.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t like it though.”

“Ah... _ Bebop _ .” Crowley stifled a laugh as Ezra gave him a look and got another cassette from the glovebox. He put it in the cassette player and the stereo immediately began playing Queen.

“That's odd, I could have sworn that Cassette said ‘Beethoven.’” 

“Alot of those might have been taped over, sorry. Just skip it and see if the next song survived the re-taping.” Ezra clicked the “skip” button and the cassette spurred in its player, and for a split second there was classical music before an obnoxious screech and the rock music continued. 

“Sorry,”

“Don't be, I don't mind listening to something different for a while.”

Crowley was going to protest but stopped himself short. He liked that Ezra was so accepting, even if it was just about something so small like his choice of music. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the odd perpective changing that keep happening, I get a bit carried away with my writing sometimes!


	7. Golden Pothos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Golden Pothos (aka the 'devils ivy') represents perseverance, gain and gifts.

Ezra

As Crowley's antique car rolled up to the streetside where the shop stood, Ezra noticed a package delivery man waiting by the shop door on his phone. 

“Can I help you?” Crowley asked, getting out of the car. The delivery man looked up to Crowley, and Ezra felt a small pang of jealousy as Crowley talked to him.

“Are you Mr ‘Anthony Crawley?’”

_ “Crowley.”  _ He corrected him. 

“Well, I’ve got a package for you here, I just need you to sign off on it.” He passed Crowley a clipboard that Crowley skimmed and signed off on.

“All yours,” the mailman tipped his hat to the two men before heading back to the mail truck. Crowley picked the large box off the ground, Ezra peering over his shoulder.    
“What is it?”   
“I dunno, I ordered a lot of stuff for the shop, could be anything.” Crowley passed Ezra his keys so Ezra could open the door for him and Crowley lugged the box inside the shop, placing it on the floor. Crowley pulled the flaps open and inside were several assorted plants.

“Ah, they’ve finally come in.” Crowley began unwrapping the pants from their plastic cells.

“What kind of plants are those?” Ezra asked, putting his work briefcase down. 

“Epipremnum areums.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, sorry- fancy talk for ‘Pothos plant.’” Crowley handed Ezra one of the plants to inspect, and as he took the Plant from him, Ezra noticed a thick bandage around Crowley’s knuckles.

“What happened to your hand?” Ezra asked, completely forgetting about his plant for a good moment. Crowley looked at his hand through dark glasses, as if just discovering the wrap was there himself.

“Oh, I uh- dropped a glass the other day. No big deal.”

Crowley placed another Pothos plant on the floor from the box.

“Did you know that Pothos plants are actually referred to as the ‘Devil’s Ivy?’” Crowley stated in a very matter of fact tone.

“No, I did not. You’re quite knowledgeable about these plants.”   
Crowley shrugged. “I’d hope so, if I wasn't, then two years sworth of Botany classes have taught me nothing.” 

“Where did you attend school?” Ezra asked, admiring the surprisingly Green plant he had been given to hold.

“University of Edinburgh.”   
“Oh I heard it's quite lovely there.”   
“Yeah, it was pretty nice. That's where I met my old friend Beez.” 

Crowley collapsed the shipping box and began placing the Pothos plants under large industrial lights that must have been recently installed, as Ezra did not recognize them from the last time he was in Crowley’s shop a few days ago.

“Where did you go to school?”

“I started off at the University of Wales but eventually transferred to a London campus, and the rest is history.” 

“Did you go to school for the press?” Crowley asked, turning back to Ezra.

“No, I went to school to get a bachelor's degree in English literature.”   
“I’m not surprised, you seem very smart.” Crowley commented, Ezra’s chest tightening at his statement. 

“Ah, yes, well- I’m afraid my parents weren’t too happy with my choice in schooling.”   
“Why?”   
“They wanted me to go to school for religious studies, but it just… Wasn’t my cup of tea, I suppose.” Ezra responded tentatively 

“I hear you.” Crowley finished fussing with his new stock of plants before turning his focus back to Ezra.

“Have you had lunch yet, Ezra?”

“As a matter of fact, no, I haven't. My lunch break was right about when the lights decided to go out at work.”

“I haven't had any ethier. Whaddaya say we go out again? My treat.”   
Ezra paused before responding,

“I’d love to, but I can't help but feel guilty that you keep paying.”

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly, sticking both his hands in his pockets.

“Dont worry about it, Angel. C’mon, let's go find a good place, yeah?” Crowley flipped the lights off to the inside of the shop and led a very giddy Ezra out.

  
  


Crowley

Weird as it was, Crowley was perfectly entertained watching Ezra eat, and just listening to his stories. He much rather would have sat in that restaurant and listened to Ezra and watch him dine, but Crowley did make himself eat a little too, as his hotel mini bar snacks weren’t enough. He did need real food too, as he was only human, afterall. Crowley covered the bill yet again, and walked Ezra back to his apartment, deep in conversation about the opening of his new shop.

“I ordered most of the stuff online that I'll need, including more plants to get shipped and whatnot, but the only thing I couldn't find was a cash drawer.”   
“You mean a register?”   
“Yeah, that. All the ones online now are bluetooth and connect to ipads, but I dont have the kind of money to go buy a tablet  _ just  _ for the sole purpose of collecting money. It's not very… whats the word-”   
“Classy?”   
“Yeah, that's it.”   
“Well if you're looking for a classy register, I might be able to help you out.”   
“What, do you just have old school cash registers lying around inside your apartment?” Crowley laughed.   
“As a matter of fact, yes I do.”   
Crowley stopped laughing.

“You’re serious?”   
Ezra nodded. “I have an antique cash register that I won at a church auction back in Whales, I keep meaning to donate it or whatnot because I’m certainly not using it for anything, but if you want it you can have it?”   
“Really?”   
“Of course. I’d rather someone use it than let it sit around for the next millenia collecting dust. As a matter of fact, I can go get it for you as soon as we get back.”   
“Wow, yeah-that’d be great.”

Crowley and Ezra were just a block or so from the apartment by then, as Crowley’s large black coupe had become visible from that distance through the busy streets of Soho. By the time they made it back, Ezra had his keys out and was opening his apartment door. He took a step in and turned back to Crowley.

“You’ll have t o come in with me, I’m afraid it's quite heavy.”   
“Oh- yeah, sure.” 

Ezra held the apartment door open for Crowley and he stepped inside.

Crowley had only ever stood in the doorway of Ezra's apartment, never actually looking or being inside of it. Walking through that red door frame was like walking through into a different century of living. It was full to the brim with shelves upon shelves of books.  _ He really wasn’t kidding when he said he was a bookworm.  _ Crowley thought to himself. If the apartment was the slightest bit larger, it might have well qualified as a library. A very cozy, well lived in one at that. 

“I think the register is back here, hold on a moment, dear.” Ezra walked past him and disappeared behind one of the bookshelves. Crowley helped himself to sit on the sofa, listening as Ezra dug around in the other room. He came back in with a large, black cash register in arms. 

“Holy shit.” 

“It's quite heavy, but if it's what you’re looking for-”   
Ezra sat it down on the table for Crowley to examine.

“It's perfect. How much do you want for it?” Crowley reached to get his wallet from his back pocket.

“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary, my dear.”

“The hell it wont, how much do you want for it?”   
“Im not accepting your money, Crowley, just take it.”

“For free? This thing has to be worth at least 200 pounds!”

“Think of it as a ‘thank you’ for buying me lunch the past few days. And besides, I’m not using it for anything. At Least it will be in good hands now.”    
Crowley sat there dumbfounded.

“Surely you’re joking.”   
“I’m not. Come help me move it next door.”   
Crowley got up from his perch and took one side of the register, Ezra taking the other.  _ Holy shit this thing is heavy! _ They hauled it out into the street, and next door to Crowley’s shop, letting it sit on the counter.

“I can’t believe you just let me have this thing. Are you sure you won't let me buy it from you? I don't mind.”   
“Nonsense Crowley, just promise me you’ll keep taking me out for lunch sometimes, yes?”

Crowley's brain short circuited briefly. 

“Of course.”   
“Great! I best be heading home and getting a head start on paperwork so I’m not drowning in it tomorrow when we get power back.” Ezra leaned down and grabbed his briefcase he had left on the shop floor earlier.

“Alright. See you later then,” Ezra gave Crowley a smile and left the shop heading next door, the second the door shut behind Ezra, Crowley mouthed ‘ _ holy shit’  _ to himself and stood in disbelief.  _ Did that just happen? _

  
  
  
  
  



	8. Clarica Godetia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarica Godetia; Stands for Enthusiasm and Charm.

Ezra

  
  


It took nearly a full half hour before Ezra realized what he just did. Mid Paperwork at his apartments desk he took a sip of coca and just stopped. 

“Oh good lord what have I done.” He put the mug down. _I just convinced that man to take me out a third time! What if he doesn't want to?_ Ezras mind began to race. _I don't want him to feel obligated to take me somewhere just in payment of some silly old cash drawer!_ Ezra gave a side eye glance at his rotary phone on the opposite end of his wooden desk. _Am I going too fast for him?_ Ezra stood from his desk and began to pace. _No, that can't be it. I just can’t force it, that’s all, I hardly even know the man!_ Ezra wanted so badly to grab his phone and call Anathema, or anyone at that rate and ask if he was doing it everything right and to ultimately reassure himself. He hadn’t gotten himself into something like this before, not without consequence- but that was back when he was younger. _Why would I really have to worry about this sort of thing nowadays?_ Ezra managed to sit back down to finish his paperwork, making an effort to snap his mind back into focus, and to think of anything but what worries and excitements were weighing on his own shoulders. 

Crowley

Several days had passed since Ezra gave him his new cash drawer, and also, his very open-ended offer for Crowley to continue treating him out to lunch. Granted, Crowley would have done it anyways just for the pure fun of it, but actually hearing Ezra say that he _liked_ their little lunch dates made it all a lot more real. Every little interaction he had day by day with his neighbor, whether it was a brief wave through a window or a full blown chat on the storefront, Crowley began to feel more comfortable around Ezra. So much so that he managed to get invited over for drinks that Friday night after Ezra got back from the press, which was a surprise in itself for Crowley that Ezra even drank, let alone socially.

Crowley found himself waiting the whole day away in his hotel room. There were more shipments arriving at his shop any minute now, but they could wait. The rest of the actual plants and flowers Crowley ordered were coming in insulated packages, so they could be left unattended for a while. He was always particular about his outfits, always staying with his monochromatic style, but that day he was especially fussy about what he wore. He dug through his bag of clothes all the way to the bottom to make sure he wore something different that night. He even switched out his usual tinted glasses for ones with a silver rim around the edges. Fixing himself up in the complementary mirror, he could hear it again. _It's almost like you’re trying to impress him. Is that what you want, Anthony?_ Crowley swiftly shook the thoughts from his head, refocusing on selecting his attire. _He’s only doing this because he pities you._ Crowley mumbed a quick “shut up.” to himself before flicking the lights to his hotel room off and strolling out into the hallway. It was only three PM, so he had a good hour or two until Ezra would get back, let alone ready for Crowley to come over, so he had to make do with entertaining himself until then.

  
  


Ezra

The day always seemed tentatively slow at the Coleum, but it was even worse than usual that Friday. Ezra almost found himself hoping the office lights would go out again so he could “ditch” (as the Americans referred to it,) and go tidy up the place for when Crowley came over later. The day was a little brighter working alongside Anathema, though her mischievous demeanor had gotten particularly worse since she had actually met Crowley. As she slid over a chair to Ezra’s desk to eat lunch with him, he had to mentally brace himself for a barrage of tantalizing questions.

“So Ezra,” Anathema began, “When are you seeing Gingy again.”  
“ _Gingy?_ ” Ezra repeated dumbly.

“Your ginger boyfriend.” Anathema smiled smugly.

“Anathema, Crowley and I are not dating.”  
“But you want to. I can tell.”   
“Oh really now?”   
“Mmm hmm. You’re not very hard to read Mr. Fell. Your aura’s all over the place.”   
_I forgot about that._ Ezra thought. Anathema was apparently brought up in a pagan household back in America, and was taught to read other people’s auras from a young age. She never went too in depth on the whole practice of it, but was smart enough to use it in her arguments. 

“Ms. Device, that doesn’t sound very work related.” Gabriel Cut in, walking up behind the two.

“I’m on my lunch break, Gabe.” She responded casually.

“It’s _Gabriel_ to you. Anyways, all that Wiccan shit isn't real, you know that, right?” 

“I can tell you right now it definitely is-”  
Wedged between the two of them, Ezra felt like a referee at the world's worst rugby game, but this was common enough, as Gabriel liked to interiene with others affairs and Anathema, needless to say, was a spitfire. Gabriel was about to continue arguing with Anathema when Sandy walked up behind him and tapped on his shoulder, showing him something on a tablet screen. 

“I’ll get back to you two later.” Gabriel scowled after reading whatever was on the tablet, leaving the desk space and following Sandy elsewhere.

“Don't threaten us.” Anathema huffed sarcastically. “Leave it to Gabriel to ruin a perfectly good afternoon.”  
“I’ll say.” Ezra agreed, feeling almost grateful he worked with someone like Anathema who wasn’t shy to stand up to Gabriel, no matter the subject at hand. With Gabriel busy, and Anathema fired up, Ezra continued his lighthearted conversation, knowing that withstanding that argument shaved off a good five minutes from his long work day that stood between him, a fine glass of brandy, and Crowley. 


	9. Edelweiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelweiss: A stance for courage and curiosity.

Crowley

He felt like a dog waiting for his owner to come home. He sat awkwardly in his semi assembled shop, waiting to hear Ezra walk in next door so he could slither over. For a while, he felt like he wasn’t making much progress in terms of his little plant shop, but he actually had a few people recently knock on the door and ask when he would be opening. It felt nice, knowing he was on the road to proper entrepreneurship, and ultimately, possibly, freedom. The sound of keys jangling outside made Crowley peer through the shop windows to see Ezra opening his apartment door. He was still (as you’d expect,) in his work clothes and had a leather briefcase under one arm. Crowley wanted to jog over and invite himself in early, but he figured he would be pushing his luck at that rate. Instead, he waited in the shop until 6:00 (which gave Ezra a good half hour before he walked over.) When his lockscreen gave him his queue, he walked over and knocked on the neighboring door. There was the sound of footsteps and the fumbled turn of a doorknob before the apartment door opened.  
“Hi Angel.”  
“Good evening Crowley, come in my dear boy.”  
Crowley grinned at the pet name and followed Ezra inside. The apartment looked a bit different at night, and if it was even more possible, more like a library. There was a bottle of what appeared to be brandy out (for all Crowley knew, it could have been cologne since its glass container was so ornate), as well as two individual glasses. Ezra must have noticed Crowley examining the new layout, because he nervously spoke out-  
“I have wine as well, if you’d rather that.” Ezra held a dark green bottle in hand.  
Crowley shrugged. “Whatever you’d like. I’m fine with either.”  
“You’re the guest, perhaps you should pick.”  
“Uhh… Wine I guess.”  
“Alright, it's red, I hope that's adequate.” Ezra sat down and poured two glasses, Crowley sitting on the other end of the seat, reading the label on said bottle.  
“I didn’t realise you were a connoisseur, this is expensive.”  
“This was a gift from Anathema, I believe it was from my last birthday.” Ezra responded, handing Crowley his glass.  
“When’s your birthday?” He asked, sipping his wine.  
“February Fifth. Yours?”  
“April eighteenth.”  
“That makes you an Aries if I’m not mistaken.”  
Crowley thought for a second.  
“Yeah, you’re right. What would you be?”  
“An Aquarius. That's an air sign.”  
“I'm surprised you know so much about Zodiac stuff.” Crowley commented, Ezra let out a breathy laugh.  
“I didn’t know it was even a concept until I was around eighteen. My parents were very strict about what I could read growing up. Nothing ‘blasphemous.’” Ezra sipped his wine. “Though once I went to collage, I started reading whatever I wanted.”  
“I bet it was nice finally being able to do that.” Said Crowley, watching Ezra through the lens of his tinted glasses.  
“Oh yes, it was. I suppose that's why I have so many books now,” Ezra said, gesturing to his apartment. “I started to hold onto the things I liked most. Thinking of it now, my parents wouldn’t have liked that either. You know, to ‘give everything to charity’ and what not.”  
“Do you talk to your parents a lot?” Crowley asked hesitantly, knowing full well it was a touchy subject personally. Hopefully, he wouldn’t return the question.  
“A good amount. I only see them maybe once or twice a year in person, however. We just drifted apart, I guess.”  
“Yeah.” Crowley tried not to think too hard about the subject, staring into his empty glass, Ezra picking up on his behavior immediately.  
“Is something wrong?”  
Crowley shook his head, looking back to Ezra.  
“Nope. Would you pour me another glass?”  
“Of course.”

The wine flowed steadily for the next hour and a half. Conversation made a great distraction from the actual amount of alcohol that was being consumed, and before Crowley knew it, he was absolutely plastered.  
“Mah point is- dolphins. Thats mah point.”  
“...Kind of fish?” Ezra asked groggily. He must have gotten pretty drunk himself, as his posture that was usually so prim and proper had reverted into sinking into his end of the sofa.  
“No no no, it's a mammal. You’re an actual mammal…” Crowley could tell he was rambling, but he didn't make any effort to stop himself. Ezra poured himself another glass, missing the edge of the glass by a good inch and the wine hitting the tabletop.  
“What were we talking about?” Ezra yawned.  
Crowley tried to think back to a few seconds ago, but his mind felt heavy.  
“I dunno.” Crowley pinched his brow, trying to focus. He could feel Ezra looking at him.  
“Can I ask you something?” Ezra asked.  
Crowley looked up.  
“Yuh?”  
Ezra pointed indirectly at his face, squinting.  
“Your glasses. Why do you always wear them? Inside I mean.”  
Crowley's brain felt like it had been deep fried as he tried to think.  
“Uhh- long story really.”  
“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”  
“No no, it's fine. I uh… have a condition.”  
Ezra looked at him inquisitively, or atleast, how inquisitively you could look at someone while shitfaced.  
“It's called coloboma, which is a bullshit word for ‘my eyes are weird looking,’” Crowley adjusted his glasses. “My irises are uh… fucked up.”  
“They can't be that bad.” Ezra insisted.  
“They’re alright I guess. I’ve always had it. Genetic, I think. Anyways, I can see fine- they’re just really light sensitive so these,” he pointed drunkenly at the frames of his glasses, “are prescribed. Not to mention they save me from scaring the shit out of people.”  
“Can I see them?”

The question hit Crowley out of nowhere.  
“Wot?”  
“Can I see them? If you don't mind?” Ezra asked again. Why does he want to see my eyes? I told him how fucked up they are. Crowley sputtered for words.  
“I-I mean, sure. If you want. They aren't pretty, though.”  
Crowley reached up to pull his glasses off, but Ezras hands were already there- slowly moving the frame off his face. _He’s touching you, holy shit!_  
“Is this alright?” Ezra asked, hands on either side of Crowley's face.  
“Y-yeah.”  
Ezra pulled the glasses off his face slowly. Crowley’s eyes fluttered shut at the sudden change of light. He squinted, taking a moment to adjust to the new lighting and looked up at Ezra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Fun fact: The birthdays I used for Ezra's and Anthony's are actually Michael Sheen and David Tennant's birthdays in real life. While this fic isn't strictly based off of Amazon Prime's Good Omens, I like to tie in aspects of both Book-Omens and TV-Omens, as I love both dearly!


	10. Pavayer Poppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pavayer poppy: Consolations and Tragedies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW\TW for this chapter!!! This is where the content warning tags will begun to come in. There will be descriptions of past trauma and abuse, as well as themes revolving around alcoholism and family related deaths that may potentially continue into the next chapter. Read at your own risk!

  
  


Ezra

_ Oh my word.  _ Ezra thought, looking into Crowley’s eyes for the first time. Despite how his brain was swimming with alcohol, he could now finally see his eyes vividly. Their irises were such a light brown they looked gold, honey colored, even. His pupils, which he had said were “weird looking” were thin, long, dark and gorgeous, unlike anything he had ever seen. They looked almost like cat eyes.  _ No, like snake eyes. _

“They’re pretty gross, aren't they?” Crowley laughed awkwardly, making a drunk attempt to break the silence.    
“No, Crowley. They’re beautiful.” Ezra said softly, still looking into Crowley's eyes, which flickered in confusion at him.

“Wot?”   
“I said they’re gorgeous.” Ezra set his sunglasses down on the table top. “I’ve never seen someone with such lovely eyes before.” If Ezra was not mistaken, Crowley turned beet red, looking like a child who was being complemented.

“You’re lying.” He blinked. “You’re just saying that.” His expression turned dark with disbelief, looking down and away from Ezra.

“I am not.” Ezra responded, raising his voice the tiniest bit. “They’re absolutely stunning.”   
Crowley looked back up at him, clearly in denial.

“No they’re not.”   
“Yes Crowley, they absolutely are.” Ezra rested his hands on Crowley's shoulders that flinched slightly. “Whatever do I need to do to prove it to you?” Crowley’s expression became unreadable for a brief second until Ezra blindly leaned in.

Crowley

Ezra kissed him softly on the lips. Completely frozen, Crowley watched him do so and pull back quickly when he didn’t do the same back. Ezra looked at him, stormy blue eyes suddenly fearful.   
“Oh no, I didn’t cross the line, did I? Crowley, I’m so sorry I-'' Crowley surged forwards, colliding their lips again. His brain was completely blank, all he could do was focus on Ezra, who had begun to kiss him back softly yet again. He tasted like wine and something remarkable sweet that Crowley could not put a name to. Ezra’s hands reached up to Crowley's hair from his shoulders, entangling them in his red hair as he let Crowley kiss him past his lips.  _ Fuck. _ Crowley managed to think,  _ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  _ Crowley fought every instinct he had to pull Ezra on top of him, but settled for resting his hands on his sides. Breaking for breath, his eyes met Ezras, which were partly lidded. 

_ “Anthony.” _ he whispered, inches away from his face. Crowley wanted to dive back in, taste Ezra again and to go further. But instead, it started again. The noise. Panic went through Crowley's body as he began to lose his grip.

“Anthony? Crowley?” Ezra’s face went from soft to concerned as Crowley’s vision began to blurred at the edges, pulse pounding.   
“Crowley?! Crowley!” Ezra near shouted as everything snapped to black, the noise in his head taking over. 

_ “Do you need to be put in your fucking place again?!” His voice turned into a yell, Anthony could smell liquor. He felt hands grab him roughly by his shoulders, gripping him hard. “You’re a fucking mistake.” He hissed, spit landing on Anthonys face. “You should have never been born, and the only reason you’re still here is because of your mother, but guess what? She’s gone now. She’s gone, and I’m the only one you have left, so don't you DARE disobey me again.” The hands let go, letting Anthony drop to the floor, heart pounding in his ears. He felt the back of his head smack the linoleum floor as he walked away, mumbling under his breath. Yet, with the ringing and sound of his own pulse echoing through his head, he could have sworn he heard someone else saying his name.  _

_ Crowley.  _

_ Crowley. _

_ Crowley! _

“CROWLEY!” He lurched upwards, clutching the sofa under him, panting heavily. It took a second for him to focus until he could see that Ezra was holding him by his shoulders, face panicked. “Crowley, look at me. What happened?! Are you alright?!” Ezra stammered, still holding onto Crowley's shoulders as if he were about to fall a great height. Between the ringing in his ears, his heart beating out of his chest, and the violent memories that had come rushing back, nothing pained him as much as seeing Ezra looking so frightened.  _ Look what you’ve done.  _ Eyes tearing up, Crowley fumbled for his glasses on the table next to him.

“Should I call an ambulance? Crowley, say something please!” Ezra begged. Crowley wanted to counsel him, but he could feel himself on the verge of slipping once more. 

“I-I got to go.” Crowley pushed himself off the sofa, heading towards the front of Ezra’s apartment. He didn’t feel drunk anymore, all he felt was panic and shame.  _ I have to leave. _

Ezra

Not knowing what to do, he reached out and grabbed Crowley by his sleeve.

“Crowley- you’re in no condition to drive. Where are you going?!” Ezra asked, feeling less drunk by the second as adrenaline hit him hard. Crowley gave him a look over his shoulder that even through his tinted glasses, Ezra could see fear in his eyes, and it broke him for a second-seeing Anthony like that.  _ What have I done? _ He let go of Crowley’s sleeve, shaking lightly, and watched as Crowley sprinted out the front door. Ezra felt his own panic rising as he watched Crowley fumble for his car door and peel out into the street, several pedestrians watching as the antique car sped away. Ezra had begun pacing.  _ Do I call him an ambulance? What do I do?!  _ Something shiny caught Ezras eye and he saw a mobile phone laying on the Sofa, ringing to some unfamiliar rock tune. The name “Beez” was calling him. Having nothing to lose, Ezra picked it up.

“Crowley why the hell haven't you been answering my-”   
“This isn’t Crowley, this is Ezra. Ezra Fell.”   
“Oh.-Where's Crowley?”

Ezra looked for words. “Listen, Beez, something happened with Anthony.”   
“What?”   
Ezra quickly reacted to what had just happened, how Crowley blacked out, and when he came to, ran out panicked. Ezra chose to not include the details of them kissing, feeling it wasn't necessary. Once he finished, there was a brief silence on the other end before Beez responded to him.

“Ezra, listen to me right now.  _ He cannot be left alone. _ You need to go find him right now, and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”   
“Okay, alright. Thank you. I’ll go get him.” Ezra clicked the “hang up” option on Crowley’s phone. He walked over to his own rotary phone and dialed in Anathema’s number. The phone rang shrilly twice until a groggy Anathema picked up.

“Hello?” She asked sleepily.

“Anathema, it's Ezra.”   
“Ezra, what's wrong?” Anathema sounded more alert now. “You never call this late.”   
“Anathema, something horrible happened to Crowley, and I need to find him. Newton works at his hotel, correct?”   
“Yes. Do you want to talk to him?”   
“Please.”   
Anathema passed the phone to Newton. 

“Ezra?” He asked, sounding very tired himself.

“Newton, I need Crowley’s room number.”   
“W-what? Why?”   
“Something happened and he can’t be alone right now, I just- don't know which room is his. I’m sure it's against your rules, but please make an exception. I beg of you.”   
There was a small silence on the other end of the line.

"I'm not supposed to give out room numbers, legally speaking, but I know you, Ezra. You're a good guy, so I'll tell you- just don't tell my boss. I believe his room is room 665, on the third floor. 

“Thank you!” Ezra hung up and grabbed his coat, as well as Crowley’s abandoned phone. He ran out to the sidewalk and locked his apartment before flagging down a Taxi. He climbed in the back, slamming the door behind him. The driver quickly picked up on Ezra’s tension.

“Hotel on 22nd and Main, please hurry.” 

“Alright, I’m on it.” The driver started the vehicle and within minutes they were at the hotel’s front. Ezra gave the driver a twenty, not bothering to wait for his change back before heading towards the front doors. He had a small sigh of relief when he saw the antique Bentley parked crookedly outside of the parking garage.  _ Thank the lord he didn’t get hurt on the way here. _ Running was not Ezra’s strong suit, but he made no waste of time as he ran inside, past many hotel residents and to the elevator, pressing the “3” button inside of it repeatedly. The elevator doors slowly closed and began their decent upwards, making no motive to go fast. Ezra tapped his foot impatiently as the elevator stopped moving and let him out. The hallway to the third floor was empty thanks to the late hour, and Ezra read each door number allowed to himself until he reached room “665.” Every instinct on him told him to bang on the door, and to try to get inside and counsel him- but seeing Crowley so lost earlier, so fragile looking, he restrained himself. Trying to sound as calm as possible, Ezra began to speak to the closed door.

“Crowley?” He asked. There was nothing but silence on the other side.

“Anthony?” He waited. There was the tiniest sound on the other side, like the creak of a floorboard. Ezra continued talking. “I’m sorry for following you here, but I needed to make sure you’re okay.” Silence. “I haven't known you very long, only for a month or so, but I can tell that you already mean alot to me.” Ezra’s voice began to crack. “And that I’d like you to know that whatever’s going on, or whatever happened, I want to help you.” There was another small noise on the other side of the door. Ezra could feel tears stinging at the edges of his eyes as he felt a wave of drunken emotion wash over him. “So please, Crowley. If you need me, if you need help, just ask. You don’t have to do this alone.” Ezra bowed his head, listening for any sounds from the other side of the door. And for a while, there was nothing. Ezra hadn’t a clue how long he stood there, waiting, but eventually he heard light footsteps approaching from the opposite side of the door. Looking back up at the door hopefully, listening as there was the sound of a lock turning ever so slowly and the door creaked open just a crack. 


	11. Rhododendron Salvus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhododendron Salvus also known as "Salvia" is a medicine plant typically associated with thoughtfulness and sympathy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW\CW: Discussion of Abuse, Trauma, and alcoholism.

  
  


Crowley

Crowley opened the door just a sliver, enough to let the golden hallway light into his dark room. From what he could still tell, Ezra was still standing outside his door. He pushed it open a bit more, and dragged his eyes up to meet Ezra's, which were worried but sincere. It was hard to think that less than an hour ago, they were sitting on his sofa, drunk off their asses and laughing,  _ kissing each other,  _ even- and now he was hiding in his hotel down the road. 

“I’m sorry Angel.” Crowley rasped. His voice felt harsh against his throat as he opened the door slightly more. 

“My dear, you don't have to apologize for anything.” Ezra replied, giving him a tiny smile. “You haven't done anything wrong. Just… Let me know how I can help you.”

Crowley waited a second, contemplating shutting the door again and stopping fighting, to let time pass him by until Ezra left him. But something deep in Crowley’s gut told him that Ezra wasn’t going anywhere. He must have noticed his silence, so Ezra asked first-

“Would you like me to come in?”   
Crowley felt himself nod lightly, letting the door open enough to let Ezra inside his hotel room. Ezra took a few steps inside and waited for Crowley’s next move. It was almost like a game, or a dance- waiting for the other’s next hesitant move. He shut the door behind him, numb fingers gripping the knob for a second before letting go. 

“I should...probably tell you what's going on.” Crowley said to Ezra.

“Only if you want to. If you don't feel comfortable, that's alright.”

Normally, Crowley would have made a sassy remark on how proper Ezra was being, and compared him to an old English gentleman, but this wasn’t one of those times. He almost appreciated that he wasn't dragging him for information like some underpaid therapist.

“No, I think it's best I just tell you now.” Crowley sighed, brain fuzzy. “It’ll help this all make more sense.” Crowley walked over to the edge of his bed, sitting down. Ezra mirrored him by sitting on the room’s other bed that was still well made, as he never slept in that one. Crowley took a deep breath, eyes trying looking anywhere but at Ezra's face.  _ Where are my glasses? _

“You might have remembered, a while back… I mentioned to you that back home- er, in Scotland, things weren’t very good?” He looked at Ezra directly for a brief moment. His hands were folded in his lap.

“Yes, I believe I do.” He responded.

Crowley swallowed. The ringing was back in his ears again, but not nearly as severe as it was earlier.

“My dad- he um, well, he was an alcoholic. He always had been, but it got worse after- '' He felt tears burning his eyes as he tried to speak and not completely break down. “-my mom died. I was seven when she died and after that, everything went to shit.” “My dad started drinking more, he was pissed she had left him with just me, and the thing that really pissed him off was that she left all of her money to me in her will, and none to my dad.” Crowley pinched his brow, shutting his eyes briefly. “I didn't know anything about the money at the time, I was just a kid- but my dad knew, and he wasn’t happy, so… He took a lot out on me. Nearly every day. My life was a living nightmare.” He thought back to small thoughts of every time it happened, over and over again- like a mental slideshow. He could feel himself beginning to shake again. “When I was eighteen, I learned about money, and I went off to college to get away from him.” Crowley sniffed. “Turns out, the money I received at the time I turned eighteen was only a sliver of it. My dad was holding onto the rest of it, so I took it to court, and it got so bad then with him showing up at Beez and my apartment, sending threats and stuff like that… I had to leave.” Crowley’s voice had begun to tremble. “So Beez helped me leave and agreed to work on the money issue but now that I’m free… I’ve just been stuck with the fucking trauma.” Crowley had begun to cry, he could feel it going down his face, but made no effort to wipe it away. “And sometimes It gets bad. Or something will make it that way, or I’ll get horrible thoughts and flashbacks and…” He stopped. He couldn’t say much more. Though, what was there to say? He looked across the gap of the beds to Ezra, who was teary eyed himself. He had taken out a handkerchief and was holding it out to Crowley, who shook his head to it, opting to wipe his face off with his sleeve. 

“I-I’m sorry, Crowley.” Ezra said. “You don't deserve any of this. You really don’t.” Ezra then held out his hand to Crowley, not the way people do when they go to shake hands, but rather to hold something. With shaking fingers, Crowley let his own hand meet Ezras, who held it softley, the same way he had cradled his face earlier at the apartment.Ezras hand grazed over his bandaged knuckles gently, trying not to hurt him. Having nothing to lose, Crowley spoke.

“Will you sit over here with me? Is that alright?” He asked horsley.    
Ezra looked at him with kind eyes. 

“Of course.” He moved across from the other bed, coming to sit next to Crowley. The bed creaked under their weight as he sat down, not separating their hands as they listened to the silence. 

Ezra

After a while of sitting in comfortable silence, Anthony decided it would be best if he got some sleep. Though, Ezra decided to stay with him and sit on the opposite bed. Although he was tired himself, he was quite elated to find that he had put one of his novels in the interior pocket of his work coat earlier that day, so he could read that for a while Crowley got some rest.  _ Heaven knows he deserves it.  _ Ezra sat comfortably on the spare bed for what had to be a good hour or so when there was a knock at the hotel door. Crowley didn't stir at the noise, still sleeping in a tangle of limbs with his red hair splayed out on his pillow. Ezra put his book down and quietly walked to the door. Looking through the peephole, he could see Newton. 

“Hello Newton.” Ezra smiled, opening the door. “I hope I didn't wake you up with my call earlier.”   
“No, it’s fine. I have to work the early shift today anyways.” Newton gave Ezra a small laminated card. “This is the room service number for the hotel, so if you need coffee later or whatever you can call the kitchen downstairs and I could bring it up.”

“Thank you, that's very kind of you.”

“Is everything okay now?” He asked, adjusting his glasses nervously.

Ezra nodded, giving a sleeping Crowley a thoughtful gance over his shoulder before responding. 

“Yes, I think so.”   
Newton nodded understandingly. “Okay. Just call down if you need anything. The front desk is open 24 hours.”   
Ezra said his thanks before letting Newton leave, closing the door with a loud ‘click.’ He glanced nervously at Crowley, hoping he didn't wake at the loud noise the door made. Thankfully, he was still out cold.  _ He must be a heavy sleeper.  _ Ezra thought,  _ although, we did both have a lot to drink earlier.  _ He returned to his perch on the other bed, setting the room service card down. Although Crowley had a rough night, Ezra felt a sort of appreciation that he still trusted him, despite still feeling that he had somewhat scared him off earlier.  _ I can only imagine what he’s gone through.  _


	12. Matricaria recutita Kamilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matricaria Recutita Kamilla or most commonly known as "chamomile" is known to symbolise rest and adversity.

  
  


Crowley

He woke to the smell of fresh coffee, he lifted his head haphazardly off his pillow, before he was struck with a raging headache.

_ “Fuck.”  _ He hissed. The room was spinning, but not in a “panic attack” sort of way, more like a “ridiculously hungover” sort of way. 

“Oh you’re up!” Ezras chipper voice took Crowley a bit by surprise.  _ Shit, right. I almost forgot. _

“I got you some coffee from downstairs.” Ezra grabbed a steaming mug from a tray that was on the bedside table and passed it to Crowley on the opposite bed. He took the mug.

“I remember you saying you preferred your coffee black, so I didn't add anything to it.”   
“Yeah, that's great. Thanks.” He sipped the coffee, sitting upright in bed. Morning light had begun to seep through the windows, and he could hear the never ending hustle of London traffic outside the hotel. 

“Did you sleep alright? I tried not to wake you up.” Ezra sipped at his own mug from across the room.

“Yeah, I slept like the dead. I have a shit headache though. Think I'm hungover.”

“Do you want me to get you some water?” Ezra asked concerningly.    
“That’d be good. I don't think just coffee will help.” 

“Coffee didn't help my hangover,” Ezra said, busying himself at the mini bar of his hotel room. “that's why I got cocoa.”   
“You got hot chocolate?” Crowley laughed, taking the glass of water from Ezra.

“Oh, you hush.” Ezra dismissed him, returning back to his mug. Crowley looked Ezra over, eyes straining against the sunlight.

“You're still in your work clothes.” He commented as Ezra looked at himself, as if he forgot what he was wearing.

“Yes, well, I didn't find much time to change last night.” 

“Sorry about that.”   
“It's quite alright. I wouldn't have known to go after you if it weren’t for your friend ‘Beez.’”

“You talked to Beez?” Crowley nearly spit out his water.  _ Oh no.  _

“Yes, they were very nice.” Ezra wrung out his hands. “I'm sorry for going on your phone without consent, but I saw that they were calling when you left your phone, a-and I knew you trusted them so I didn't know what else to do. I’m sorry.” 

“No no no, don't be.” Crowley propped himself up more. “I'm glad you talked to Beez. They’re used to… this. I just hope they didn't say anything embarrassing about me, that's all.”   
“Oh no, they did nothing of the sort. They did ask that you called them back soon.” 

“Ah.” Crowley downed his water and checked his newly returned phone. The home screen was full of missed calls and notifications. “I’ll just text them back for now.”   
“I think it might be wizer to call them.” Ezra advised. “They seemed awfully worried.” Crowley thought about calling Beez up, but the thought made his head stirr.  _ I had been doing so well, and now I’ve broken down again. What are they going to say?  _

“I don't think I can do that right now. It's… just a lot for me.” Crowley opened his messaging app. “I'll let them know I'm alright and I'll call them back once I'm better.” Crowley opened Beez’s profile, which had uncountable numbers of worried texts, many of them containing swears.    
  


_ Hey Beez, I’m alright just letting you know. I'll call you when I get a chance. Thanks.  _

He hit send and immediately his inbox started to fill up again.

_ CROWLEY HOLY SHIT.  _

_ What happened?? _ _   
_ _ Did that Ezra kid reach you okay? _ _   
_ _ Didi you get hurt? _

_ Satan's tits are you hurt???? _ _   
_ _ CROWLEY YOU BETTER NOT HAVE DONE ANYTHING STUPID- _

Crowley turned off his phone, grinning. It was nice to know that Beez still cared about him, despite abandoning them back in Scotland to deal with his legal affairs and cover his tracks. The clock on the nightstand glowed a proud “6 AM,” to which Ezra asked him if you could fetch Crowley breakfast. 

“I’ll just have something from the mini bar.”

“I hate to keep protesting, my dear, but you had a rough night last night, not to mention you’re still currently hungover- please let me grab you something with nutrition.” Ezra begged. Crowley's chest tightened seeing him so concerned, desperate to help. 

“Fine,” Crowley huffed. “If you order something from room service just put it on my card.”

“Nonsense, I’ll buy you food.” Ezra grabbed the hotel room phone and began to dial a number from a small card.    
“Angel, you don't need to buy me breakfast.”

“You shush, I’m buying you some real food and that's that.”   
Crowley fell quiet, letting his mouth shut. It felt weirdly nice to know Ezra was going so far for him, following him back, staying the night (in work clothes, he might add,) and now getting him coffee in bed and breakfast. Though, he did feel a bit guilty that he was sitting there with Ezra waiting on him. Usually, he would have liked it to be the other way around. While Ezra talked to the person on the other end of the line, Crowley laid back again and watched him. His hair was so blonde in the early morning light it almost looked white.  _ It's ridiculous,  _ he thought,  _ for someone like him to walk the earth. He’s bloody gorgeous. And to think, I was the one lucky enough to be kissing him last night. Where would it have gone if I didn't completely spazz out?  _ Crowley shook the lewd thoughts from his head as Ezra hung up the receiver. Within minutes, Ezra was at the door retrieving breakfast. Crowley made himself sit up again, his head still groggy from alcohol. Ezra sat at the foot of his bed and gave him a plate, which he took gratefully. It was toast, and a french folded omelette that looked pretty good considering it came from a Hotels kitchen. Ezra refilled Crowley’s waterglass before sitting back down and eating his own breakfast. Crowley relished the comfortable silence between the two of them. If it was anyone else, he would have left the room already to avoid an awkward situation. But with Ezra, he didn't feel pressured to fill the silence. It was nice.

“Do you have to go to work today?” Crowley asked, taing Ezras focus off his food for a moment.

“No, I’m off this weekend. I’m supposed to go in on Monday though.”   
“Shit, sorry for ruining your weekend.” Ezra gave him an insulted look.

“Crowley, don't apologize. You don't have to apologize for anything.” He huffed, forking some of his food. Crowley couldn't help but chuckle at Ezra, who glared at him.

“What?”   
“Nothing,” Crowley laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re just eating so angrily.”   
“I'm not angry, I just wish you’d stop being so hard on yourself.” Ezra’s expression lightened a bit at Crowley's good mood. He ate about half his food and left the rest on the table with his phone, listening to Ezra chat lightheartedly as he continued to eat. 

“I don't suppose,” Ezra said, stacking his empty plate under Crowleys. “That you’re up for going outside later? I think some fresh air would do your hangover some good.” Crowley looked at him. “If you still need rest, though, that's perfectly fine, my dear. We don't have to go anywhere.” Ezra had begun to fiddle with the cuffs of his work clothes, as if he was nervous for Crowley's answer.

“That’d be nice.” Crowley responded, happy to see Ezras expression perk up to match his own. “We could go for a walk in Saint James,” Crowley swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Ezra asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Crowley stood up. He was still in his clothes from last night. “I’ll get fresh clothes and I can drive us over. We can stop at your apartment if you want to get out of your work clothes.”  _ That sounded suggestive.  _ He could imagine Beez teasing him. Luckily, Ezra didn't seem to notice how bizarre his comment was. 

“I’ll be alright, we can go for our walk first.” said Ezra as Crowley went into the hotel bathroom to change. Halfway through getting dressed, Crowley’s bandage caught on his shirt. He debated leaving the old bandage on, but after a moment, peeled it off. It stung like a bitch, Crowley doing everything short of swearing as he removed it, but managed to remove the soiled bandages. The cut beneath looked alot cleaner than when he initially wrapped it up, and hurt significantly less in the fresh air.  _ I’ll leave it off.  _ He thought, continuing to get dressed.  _ Feels good to not have it covered anymore.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if you guys have noticed my love for visual metaphors and references- this story is chock full of 'em!


	13. African Freesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> African Freesia: Friendship, and trust.

Ezra:

Crowley didn't seem to move with the same swift manner he usually did. He took his time walking down the hall to the elevator, and stood for a moment outside his car’s door before actually getting in. It was odd to see him out of his normal suave demeanor, but Ezra figured he was still recovering from his panic attack last night, as well as hungover. Ezra offered to walk, but Crowley insisted on driving. Ezra felt horrid letting him drive being hungover, but he had seen him drive the night prior both drunk and having a crisis, and he had in fact made it to the hotel unscathed, as well as done a somewhat decent parking job. So, he let Crowley drive.  _ Just this once though. _ Ezra thought as Crowley started up the engine.  _ After this I’ll be sure that he doesn’t drive in less than perfect condition again.  _ Crowley navigated the London streets easily, moving only slightly under the speed limit. 

“You’re lucky I don't feel like driving fast,” Crowley smiled.

“I don't think you drive awful fast, atleast, when I’m with you.” Ezra folded his hands on his lap.

“I only drive slow when I'm with you because I don't wanna scare you.” Crowley shrugged. Ezra couldn't help but smile a little bit.  _ He really does care about me.  _ He parked curbside outside the entryway to the park in a crossed out lot. 

“Crowley, I don't think you can park right here.” Ezra commented, following Crowley out of the car.

“I’ve parked there before, I don't see why I can't.” 

“It literally says ‘no parking’ on the lot.” Ezra fussed nervously. 

“It's fine, Angel. I have a sneaking suspicion that no cops are going to boot my Bentley, you don't have to be paranoid.”   
“Can you be sure though?”   
Crowley extended his hand to rest on Ezra’s shoulder. The bandage was gone. 

“Listen to me, Angel, it's fine.” He lowered his sunglasses a little bit so Ezra could catch the tiniest bit of his eyes as he winked before he stuck them back on his nose. Feeling a bit thrown off, Ezra shut his mouth which had fallen agape and followed Crowley into the park. 

The park was crowded despite it being early in the morning, but London was like that, always thick with people, the tourists often unidentifiable from the locals. The sky was strung with silvery clouds, and the water of the serpentine was covered in skimming ducks and geese. As they walked side by side, Crowley began to point out the different flowers that lined the edges of the grass. 

“Those over there are just classic carnations, but these,” Crowley pointed to a flower bed full of brightly colored flowers that seemed to be well surviving the late autumn weather, “are Freesias. They’re extremely popular, I ordered some to sell in the shop. I imagine they’ll be selling well.”

“Is it true that all flowers have meanings?” Ezra asked. Crowley looked at him through dark glasses.    
“As far as I’m concerned, yes. Many are not what you’d expect, though. Like American Chrysanthemums, you’d think such a vibrant little plant would symbolize something good, but they’re usually recognized for being symbols of death.”   
“Thats unfortunate.”   
“Yeah, I suppose so. Flowers like hyacinths and daisies, however, despite being similar, have much better meanings.”   
“Like what?”

“Well, daisies are symbols of purity and new beginnings, and hyacinths are supposed to be a flower of the Greek God Apollo, so they symbolise pride and well… love I guess.” 

Ezra was about to respond to Crowley’s pause in sentence, when he heard a chime from down the pathway at the park.

“Oh, look- an ice cream trolley!” 

“That's odd, it's getting rather late in the year to be selling ice cream. It's nearly November.” Crowley mumbled, looking at the white stand on the edge of the park walkway.

“When my parents and I would visit London growing up, we’d always stop and get ice cream from a little trolly like that.” Ezra smiled at the fond memories of his childhood that came back, he could feel Crowley looking at him.

“Do you want a cone?” Crowley asked, Ezra turning his attention back to his companion.

“That’d be nice, but I think I’m alright. I don't need it, I'm afraid I’m getting a bit too soft.”  
“Nonsense,” Crowley guffawed, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket before Ezra could protest. “C’mon, I’ll get you a cone. What do you want?”  
  
It was a small gesture, but Ezra felt all warm inside as the two of them continued walking, lollies in hand. As the minutes passed, Crowley seemed more and more himself again, his snarky attitude coming back bit by bit, and his posture becoming more relaxed. The two of them stopped at the edge of the walkway, facing the water. The ducks in the serpentine floated in lazy circles, completely unaware of the two gentlemen watching them.

“Hey Ezra?” Crowley asked, holding his popsicle.

“Yes?”    
“I dunno if it's too early to ask, but… um-” He paused. Ezra glanced at him, stomach tightening with concern. _He isn't having another spell again, is he?_ _He looks horribly nervous all the sudden._

“Is everything alright?” He asked, feeling more than worried.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just was gonna ask you if uh- well,” he put a hand to his head. “Shit- this is stupid. Uh, Ezra, listen-” He turned towards Ezra. “What… what are we?”

“In terms of what?”

“Well- uh,” Crowley gestured broadly with his free hand. “Relationship- wise.”

“I’m afraid I don't understand what you’re referencing,” Ezra said, feeling utterly lost as he took a bite out of his ice cream. 

“Are… are we friends?” Crowley asked. “Or, I mean- are we something more now that we…”   
Ezra forgot he had a cone in hand for a second, nearly dropping it.  _ I almost forgot about that.  _

“Look, what I’m trying to ask is- would you like to date me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOORAY FOR PLOT DEVELOPMENT! :D


	14. Orchidaceae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orchidaceae: proposals, fortune in love

Crowley

  
  


_ Shit, I broke him.  _ Crowley thought, looking at a now very motionless Ezra, seemingly shaken by his sudden question. 

“Sorry-I,'' Ezra smiled lightly, “I haven't been asked something like that in a very long time.”

“Y-you don't have to answer now,” Crowley stammered.  _ Or ever if you don't want to.  _ “I just wanted to know where this is all going, that's all. We can still be just friends if you want, or whatever.” He felt like a teenager all over again. Too lanky for his own body, stumbling over his words like a fool and making an ass of himself while trying to ask someone out.  _ Fuck I’m pathetic. He’s going to say no, and I don't blame him.  _

“I think that’d be nice.” Crowley looked back at Ezra, who was fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, cone still in hand. “To be honest with you, I haven't been in a relationship in ages. I don't quite remember how it's all supposed to go.” 

“We can go slow. We don't have to rush anything.”  _ Goddamit why do you have to make everything sound sexual?!  _ Crowley screamed at himself internally while waiting for Ezras response. 

“Alright,” Ezra sighed softly, eyes meeting Crowley’s through his dark shades. “That would be lovely.”   
“So… we’re dating?” Crowley guffawed, unsure if he was hearing him right. Ezra nodded with a small grin on his face, switching his ice cream cone between his hands. “Yes, Crowley. We’re dating.”   
  


The rest of the walk through the park went surprisingly smooth, despite Crowley’s constant urge to lay down in the grass and die of happiness.  _ He really said yes- how is this real?  _ Sure, the talk had been awkward, but he got the best answer possible. Crowley felt incredibly happy, doing everything to suppress a smile he deemed idiotic looking. Thankfully, another benefit of wearing his glasses was that half his face was obscured, so at least Ezra wouldn’t be subjected to Crowley's constant staring. Ezra chatted on and on casually, as if they had never had the talk in the first place. He was in no rush to dive right in,  _ he does want to take it slow, after all.  _ Crowley on the other hand, could have kissed him again right then and there, showing the world that the first time they kissed wasn’t a drunken fluke between the two of them. Ezra Fell genuinely  _ liked  _ him back. It felt too good to be true. They exited the park, tossing his discarded popsicle stick in a waste bin before stopping in front of the Bentley. Lo and behold, there was a yellow boot on the back wheel of it, and a parking ticket under the windshield visor. Several people walking in and out of the park paused and gave him a pitiful look of “sucks to be you” before continuing to walk away. Ezra tapped on his shoulder.    
“Yeah?” Crowley asked, feeling a tad overwhelmed and very much defeated. 

“I hate to say this dear, but…”   
“But what?”   
Ezra gave him a smug look.    
“I told you so.” 

{}

Crowley waited impatient outside the Bentley for the bastard cop that booted him to come back. He had offered to buy Ezra a bus ticket so he didn't have to wait with him, but Ezra insisted on staying, and sat in the car. Two men with white shirts and black police vests eventually wandered out the park.

“Oi!” Crowley shouted, nagging their attention. He crossed his arms. “Are you two the blokes that booted my car?”   
“Yeah. Feel like paying the fine?” One of them snapped back, stepping forwards. The one who responded had sweaty dirty-blonde hair stuck to his forehead and assortment of odd scars on his face. His partner, only a few paces behind him, looked much more well put together than the blonde officer, but all around did not look much friendlier.

“Not really. I’ve got places to be.” That was a lie. He had nowhere to be, he was spending the rest of the morning with Ezra. 

“Well that's a shame,” the cop with the ugly face laughed. “‘Cause if you don't pay the fine, you won't be going anywhere without a towing.”

Crowley huffed and pulled out his wallet.

“Fine, fine, how much is it?”   
“130 pounds.”

Crowley begrudgingly fished out the money and practically shoved it at the Cop, who tucked it in his vest pocket haphazardly.

“We'll have someone with a key come unlock it soon.”   
“You mean you cant unlock it?!” Crowley spat, gesturing to the large metal boot on the tire of his Bentley. 

“We’re a bit preoccupied, actually.” The second cop wrinkled his nose in a mock smile. “It’ll be another half hour or so until they’ll get here to take the boot off. It’ll give you some time to think about parking in violating areas.” The cops gave Crowley a hasty tip of their hats before heading back out into the street. Crowley got in the stationary car, fuming.

“Those cops didn't seem very professional.” Ezra commented, watching the officers descend down the street.

“I’ll say.” Crowley hissed. “Those two blokes had the audacity to fine me and then leave. Didn't even try taking it off, which makes no sense considering they’re the ones who put the boot on the bloody car!” Crowley let his head hit the steering wheel. Ezra giggled next to him. He pulled his glasses down to look at him.    
“Are you laughing at me?” He asked, squinting. 

“No,” Ezra managed before bursting out in a fit of laughter. “...Yes! Sorry, I’ve just never seen you so angry. It's quite funny, actually.”   
“Funny? You think me getting booted is  _ funny?”  _ Crowley asked, pretending to be mad.  _ How could I even be mad at him though? He's adorable when he laughs… even if it's at my expense. _

"Maybe funny isn't the right word,” said Ezra. “more like cute.”   
Crowley flung his glasses back on his face in a desperate attempt to cover his eyes.

“Yeah, you know me. Pretty cute and all.” He grumbled crankily to himself as Ezra tried to do everything in his power to suppress his own laughter. After a minute, Ezra broke into laughter again, as did Crowley who threw his head back and cackled, having just processed how hysterical the whole situation was. The two of them must have looked mad, two grown men sitting in an antique car- a  _ booted  _ antique car, right outside of St. James Park, laughing their asses off. And yet, they were both perfectly happy, and just about perfectly sane. 


	15. Hydrangea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Classic) Hydrangea: A representation of gratitude.

Ezra

London was an incredibly large city, so it usually took first responders and policemen and whatnot a bit longer than usual to get from place to place, but the time the two of them had been waiting for someone to come cut the boot off the car tire was ridiculous. Of course, Ezra was thinking the worst.

“Crowley?” he asked. Crowley was leaning against the interior wall of the car, or more precisely, that thin strip of red leather that divided the front of the car from the back of the car.

“Yeah?”   
“I think you got scammed.”

Crowley was silent for a few seconds before expelling into a string of curses.    
“Goddamit Im stupid! Argh!” He pulled out his iphone and irritatedly typed in some number. Within two minutes, a cop showed up and knocked on the passenger side window. Ezra cranked the window down.    
“Are you the Mr. Anthony J.‘Crawley’ that called about getting a boot off of your car?” The woman asked.

“It's  _ Crowley, _ but yeah. You’re a real officer, right?”   
The woman gave Crowley a look that was so blatantly unamused that Ezra nearly went into another fit of giggles. “Yes. I’m Officer Warr from the London Police Department.” She flashed Crowley a gold badge that looked much more authentic than the ones the other ‘cops’ were sporting.

“Yeah, alright listen- do I still have to pay a parking fine if I technically already paid it?” Crowley asked, gesturing with his hands. Ezra could see his raw knuckles very clearly in the daylight. The woman, still looking lost pulled out a pager and began to click some buttons on it. 

“I have no records of a Mr. Crowley paid a parking violation fee today. I do have records of the vehicle being booted though.” The woman responded matter of factly. 

“Yeah, well, I think we got scammed a minute ago. Two blokes dressed like officers came and took the fine and burned rubber out of here.”

Officer Warr squinted, pieces of her ginger hair falling infront of her eyes. 

“Did one of these ‘officers’ by any chance have lots of little cuts on his face?”

“Yes, the blonde one did.” Ezra piped in.

“I think you two just ran into some wanted criminals.”    
“Some wanted _ what _ now?”

The officer took out a tablet from the rear pocket of her vest, tapped its screen a few times and passed it through the car window to Ezra. There were pictures of a man's mugshots which bore a striking resemblance to the men they saw earlier.

“That looks just like ‘em!” said Crowley, who handed the officer the tablet back.

“This man and his associate have been scamming people all over England, from Liverpool to Brighton. Their surnames are ‘Hastur’ and ‘Ligur.’ Are they still in the area by any chance?”   
“I dunno, they left a good half hour ago before I had the sense to call the department. They went that way though.” Crowley nodded in the direction they had left in. Officer Warr jotted something down on the tablet using her gloved finger, before turning back to the two men.    
“I usually don't do this, because it's a lot of paperwork, but I’ll cut off your boot for free.”

“Really? That's so very kind of you!” Ezra smiled. Officer Warr stepped over to the police motorcycle parked near the sidewalk and took out a small metal device.

“Of course. You two have already been scammed out of your fine, not to mention that you both just got us tips on two potential felons. We have cameras on the outside of the park, so we should be able to rewatch security footage from earlier and see where they were made off to.” Within a matter of seconds, there was a clang from the rear of the car and the officer returned to the window with the car's metal boot in hand.

“You’re all set to go.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Warr.”

“Have a good day, gentlemen.” Ezra rolled up the window as Crowley started the car up and rolled smoothly out into the street, boot free. 

“What a waste of time.” Crowley huffed, still frazzled from the whole situation.

“At Least she was nice enough to not fine you double.” Ezra responded, Crowley shrugged. 

“Still can't believe I got scammed through. Looking back at it now, neither of those blokes even looked like officers. I guess I was just so pissed about getting booted I didn't really take that into question.” The car turned onto main street, entering traffic. The further away from the park they drove, the more it recurred to Ezra what conversation the two of them had prior to getting booted and scammed. Ezra felt a little flash of panic thinking back.  _ Oh goodness, I do hope this is worth it.  _ He thought wearily before correcting himself.  _ No, of course this is worth it. This is Crowley after all, one of us was bound to ask one way or another. We can start ‘going out’ now. _

“Where to now, Angel?” Crowley asked, snapping Ezra back into reality. “I should probably stop in at the shop to see if any more plants got delivered. I can bring you home if you’d like, or wherever.” Ezra took a glance at Crowley's electronic wrist watch, which had the roman numerals for ‘10:48’ on its face.

“I think I should probably go back to the apartment, just for a bit anyways.” Said Ezra. He didn't want to leave Crowley alone for too long, not with everything that had just unravelled in the last twenty four hours, but he was still in his work clothes from yesterday, and he did want to get changed. 

“Right, apartment it is then.” Repeated Crowley, pulling across the round about to their own very familiar street.

Crowley

As much as he wanted to spend the remainder of the day with Ezra, he decided he should give him a break. They had spent nearly the last twenty four hours together, and Crowley didn't want to push his luck. He waved Ezra goodbye before venturing into his shop. Despite only being a wall away, he felt a tight feeling in his chest the longer Ezra wasn't by his side, but he made quick work of busying himself with trading up the shop.  _ I can't believe I asked him out and he just said yes, like it was nothing.  _ He thought to himself as he rearranged some of his house plants under their grow light.  _ He asked to take it slow, but that's it. I was almost expecting him to say no.  _

Terribly bored, he decided to call back Beez.  _ They’re probably pissed at me. _ He thought as he clicked on Beez’s contact information and hit “call.” The phone rang once and was immediately picked up.

“For fuckss ssake Crowley, you couldn't call me back any faster?!” Beez’s lisp was especially noticeable when they were upset or worried, and this conversation was no exception.

“Sorry, I got preoccupied. I just wanted to call back and let you know I’m fine now.”   
“Yeah, your bloody texts aren’t very convincing.” Beez hissed on the other end of the phone. Crowley leaned up against one of his lower plant shelves, not a very professional move to sit with your products, but nonetheless- it was his shop afterall.

“Sorry.”   
“I don't want any of your damn apologizes. I just want to make sure nothing bad happened this time. Did that Ezra guy reach you okay?”   
“Yeah, he did. Nothing bad happened.”   
“Good.”   
“Hey, Beez, how’d you like to know a fun fact?” Crowley began.

“If this is going to be another drawn out conversation about the meaning of plants, then no.”   
“It's not, I swear. Listen, you know that guy I told you I took out to lunch a few times?”   
“...Yeah.”   
“Well, that guy is Ezra. And guess what? He’s my boyfriend now.” Crowley felt like a little kid again, blushy and excited while waiting for Beez to respond. 

“That makess a lot of ssense.”   
“What does that mean?” Crowley demanded, Beez cackling through the phone.

“When I called you, and he picked up, he talked sso damn proper desspite the ssituation I figured I was either talking to an old british man or a gay.” Beez laughed. “But good for you Crowley. You found some geriatric old gay man to take care of you.”   
“He is not elderly!”

“Is he your ssugar daddy?” Beez laughed so hard on the other end of the line Crowley could hear them wheezing.

“For fucks sake Beez, why do you have to bully me?”   
“Because you’re one of my best blokes.”   
“You mean ‘friends’.”   
“That works too. Anyways, I’m glad you’re getting frisky with all the London seniors. I’ll call you in a few days to check in again.”   
“Alright, goodbye asshole.”   
Crowley hung up. 

Beez 

  
Once Crowley hung up, Beez pushed away from their desk. Their ‘office’ area (which was Crowley’s old room) was full of all of Beez’s law work junk, making it hard to push all the way back in the rolling chair. The house was also a bit more cluttered since Crowley had left, but also a lot quieter. They’d never admit it, but Beez almost missed Crowley’s ruckus. He always had something going on, whether it be his vinyl player playing a warped Queen Vinyl, the TV on with the Golden Girls, or even when he had some guy over to mess around with, life was never so still with him close by. Beez sometimes even missed how he would pass out on the couch, get drunk day drinking and proceed on hour long tangents about the apocalypse. But Beez knew he was better off in London, out of reach from his father, who for all he knew, would think Crowley was still living in their apartment. Beez’s laptop, (a first gen mac book that had definitely seen better days,) made a newly familiar ‘PING!’ noise. Irritated, Beez wheeled over in their chair and checked the screen.  _ Fuck.  _ Beez opened the email to find another tagged list of legal documents. Beez had thought about telling Crowley about his fathers new lawyer, but after finding out that Crowley had suffered another panic attack, they figured it would be best if they gave him some time to recover. Whoever his fathers new lawyer was, he was good. For the last four days, Beez’s gmail inbox was full of new legal documents that were finding Loopholes in Crowley’s mothers will. With every new e-document that was sent, Beez felt like they were getting further away from Crowley getting his inheritance. Lucky for him, doing things like this was Ben's job. Seven years of law school led up to moments like these, where Beez was thrown into the ring to fight for their old friends' legal rights. Taking a deep breath, Beez opened the new documents and began to type back rhetorics, anything to stop Crowley’s father from getting closer to seizing his son's inheritance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first perspective change to Beez! Hooray!


	16. Paeonia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paeonia Flowers, (or "peonies", for short) represent advancements in courtship, as well as taking interest in a lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential TW: Brief discussion of Trauma management and coping. (not particularly upsetting, but still a sensitive topic) As well as somewhat derogatory phrasing regarding panic attacks, that will be properly adressed and later elaborated upon.

Crowley:

They probably would have been a lot more comfortable in Ezra’s apartment considering it had plush furniture and appropriate paces to properly sit and talk, but Crowley’s shop counter did fine too. He sat Cross legged on it, sipping his whiskey and listening to Ezra talk. Ezra sat more properly on his end of the counter, legs hanging off the edge rather than criss-crossed and fully on top like Crowley, but to each their own. Ezra had made sure they didn't get too drunk this time around, as he had to go into work at the press tomorrow, and did not need another raging hangover. It was probably for the best that Crowley did not get drunk either, as the events that unfolded two days prior were still somewhat fresh in his mind. NEedless to say, he didn't want anything panic attack related to him.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Crowley asked when the conversation reached a natural lull.

“Of course.”   
“Who was the first person you were ever in a relationship with?”

Ezra thought for a moment

“The first person I was ever in a ‘relationship’ with was a boy at the church camp I attended one year,” he explained, swirling his whiskey in his glass. “It was also the first time I had ever… well, I realised that I liked men.” Ezra had a distant look in his eyes, stormy and blue, like he was trying to rene,ber a instant memory. “If I recall, I spent a lot of time praying when I returned home. I guess I was scared that those church rumors about gays were true. I felt guilty, so for a long while I didn't date anyone. The rest of highschool and into my first year of school I was single as well.”    
Crowley nodded his head comprehensively.

“And you?”   
“Hm?”

“Who was your first relationship with?”   
Crowley nearly laughed at that question that was redirected at him.

“To be completely honest, Angel, I’m not sure if I remember.” He smiled, looking down into his amber drink. “I can't remember a lot of things to be honest, stuff starts to blur sometimes.” “ _ It's probably part of your trauma.” _ Beez had once told him. He was back in Scotland when they had this talk,a long time before he had even moved to England, let alone met Ezra. “ _ You might be repressing things subconsciously to cope. It's a matter of triggering or enduring something that would make your memories come back surrealistically.”  _

_ “Is that really a thing or are you just making this up to make me feel better?” Crowley had asked.  _

_ “Why the hell would I lie to you, Crowley?” Beez snapped in response, losing their professional act. He had shrugged in response. _

_ “I dunno. You’re studying to be a lawyer, so you have to get good at lying one way or another.”  _ The two of them laughed it off at the time, but now thinking back to those days where he was sanctioned in Beezs’ apartment made him feel all warm inside. Either that, or the ale. 

“I think…” He began again, trying his hardest to think back to his teenage years, which had become a mess of memories in the back of his head.

“The first guy I was ever in a relationship with was some kid in my high school.” Crowley slouched forwards on the counter top.    
“Really?”

“Yeah. Can’t remember his name though, but I’m pretty sure that whatever went down between us happened in some kind of locker room.”   
“Oh my.”

“Pretty raunchy, huh?” Crowley smiled, getting a brief laugh from Ezra. If he had tried to take time to think of forgotten memories while by himself, he would’ve probably developed a sense of melancholy and stopped, but sitting here with Ezra made him want to keep talking. He felt himself wanting to remember more, and wanting to dive in more. Ezra was watching him with those big blue eyes again from across the short counter. He had made such a fuss a few days prior about how gorgeous Crowley's eyes were, but he was really something special in themselves. They reminded him of the cover to a picture book he had growing up about a pirate, a wellerman, to be specific, in which he had completely forgotten for years. They matched that watercolor ocean scene he had loved so beautifully, and they seemed to suck him in like whirlpool if he dared look into them too long.  _ Magnificent.  _

“Ezra?” He didn't take his eyes off his face.

“Yes Crowley?”   
“Can I kiss you?”   
Ezra blinked. “Of course, but- are you sure?”   
“Am I sure about what?”   
“Well, I don't mean to kill the mood, but the last time we did this you…” Ezra took his eyes off of Crowley, looking down at the countertop beneath. “Well, you had a panic attack, and I don't want you to have to go through that again.”

“Ezra, listen,” Crowley put his hand on Ezra's shoulder, drawing his attention back to him.

“Last time when I ‘spazzed’ out, it was because of a lot of things, not just us kissing. I was drunk, tired, and… excited, to say the least. It just got me going and I felt myself slip, but this happens sometimes when I'm in less than perfect condition.”   
“So, if we were to kiss again, you wouldn’t have a panic attack?”   
“I can't promise that, Angel, but it's not your fault, or something I can predict really. But I can say with confidence that it's not your fault. Okay?”   
Ezra nodded, looking a bit withdrawn. He placed his glass down and took a deep breath, shifting his weight to lean in.

The second time around, it wasn't nearly as nerve wracking as when they had first drunkenly smashed their mouths together, but it was certainly sweeter, and did not require the removal of Crowley's glasses. Crowley didn't dare push ahead, slowing himself so he did not get overwhelmed, and so he didn't go too fast for Ezra. They kissed softly like that for a brief second, letting their lips linger delicately before pulling back slowly, taking in the moment. Ezra's face was a deep blush, and frankly one of the cutest things Crowley had ever seen. There was a moment of silence.

“Wanna do it again?” 


	17. Brassavola Orchids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brassavola Orchids: Offer meanings of sincerity and self apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Discussion of trauma\abusive households, smoking, and belittling terminology and phrases regarding mental health.

Beez

 _I need a cigarette_ , Beez thought, getting up from their desk and grabbing the half empty carton that was next to their computer. _Whoever this lawyer was that Crowley's dad had fished out was good at their job. Like, really fucking good._ Beez sat at the kitchen counter and lit up a cigarette. Their habits had rubbed off onto Crowley during his time spent sheltering with Beez, which was not necessarily a very good thing when your nicotine cravings begin to reverberate in your roommate. At Least Crowley always lit up outside, Beez thought between short drags. _This place probably smells like shit with me smoking in here. What would I know, though. I’ve probably gone nose blind._ From the other room, that awful dinging noise went off. Beez ran their free hand through their hair, frustrated, letting thin black strands fall in between their eyes. _Goddammit, that bastards sending me more?! Wasn't fifteen legal appraisals enough already?_ It had been a long time since Beez had last cried, but they suddenly felt like they were on the brink of tears. Of course the one court case they did for their friend had to be the most difficult in their entire career in law. Hell, even those American court cases that are always on the telly and over dramatized seemed easy to rule out compare to this bullshit. Beez had made Crowley a promise to call if there was ever any advancements in their case, or if something were to happen. They had held off on telling Crowley about the new lawyer on their last phone conversation, as he was just recovering from an episode, but they really had to call him eventually. It was their job for fucks sake. Beez opened their phone and pulled up Crowley's contact information. The profile picture they had set for him was a picture from when they took a weekend trip to Dublin back in college. Crowley was absolutely plastered in that picture, holding a huge glass of Guinness and drunkenly smiling at the camera, face semi-obscured by his crooked classes. They had thought he was a local down there, having matched the 'bright red hair' profile and had been given free refills from the bartender, who apparently didn't pick up on Crowleys scottish accent. _Good times._ Beez put the phone on speakerphone, hit call and waited. The phone rang once before there was the static crackle of someone picking up.  
“Hello?”  
“Hello Crowley.”  
“Hiya Beez, is there something wrong? You sound tired or something.”  
“Yeah, look Crowley, I uh… Listen, I meant to tell you this yesterday but I decided to wait, which was a bad idea, but-”  
“But what?”  
“But I'm calling to tell you your father got a new lawyer.”  
There was a brief second of silence.  
“Okay? And?”  
“He’s good. Like, really fucking good, Crowley. And to be honest with you I-” Beez cut themselves off, pinching their brow.  
“You what?”  
Beez took a deep breath. _This is super unprofessional._  
“I'm not sure if I'm doing a good job at this. I’ve never had a case where they switch lawyers halfway through the lawsuit, and the new lawyer is better than the last. I-I don't think I know what I’m doing anymore.”  
“Beez?”  
“Yeah?” Beez sniffed, trying their hardest not to completely break down.  
“I don't say this enough, but you’re a fantastic person.” Said crowley. “You’re terribly good at your job and I really owe you one for going so far in helping me, but I can't listen to you doubt yourself like this. If you’re overwhelmed right now, or need a break from my case for a bit, go ahead.”  
“You want me to take a break?”  
“If you need one, yes. I don't need my inheritance immediately, so you can take your time with this. I don't need my lawyer giving up one\ me, now can I?” Crowley had a tinge of teasingness in his voice, which was typical for Crowley, but it was nice for Beez to hear. At Least something was normal.  
“Yeah, okay.” beez nodded their head, as if Crowley could see them doing so.  
“...So are you going to take a break then? From work?”  
“Yeah, probably. Sorry Crowley.”  
“It's fine Beez, just take a few days to yourself.”  
“Okay, yeah- thanks.”  
There was some background noise in the call, a voice actually.  
“Are you with your geriatric boyfriend again?” Beez wheezed at that thought of Crowley being with some old British prune.  
“Really Beez? This again? Go take a break, will you?” Crowley hissed, making Beez laugh a bit harder.  
“Alright.”  
Beez hung up, feeling a bit lighter than they did initially calling Crowley. They put their cigarette out.

Ezra

“Is everything alright?” Ezra asked as Crowley hung up his phone.  
“Beez is overwhelmed with my case, not that I blame them.” He ran his hands through his hair, revealing a flash of his snake tattoo to Ezra. “Apparently my father got a new lawyer who’s kicking our ass, so I told Beez to take a break.” He shrugged. “I don't need Beez giving up on me, and besides, I know a thing or two about being overwhelmed. It sucks, mentally speaking. I seem to constantly be freaking out about something or another.” Crowley broadly gestured to something grand with his hand.  
“Crowley? Can I ask you why you’re so hard on yourself?”  
Crowley looked at Ezra through his tinted shades, confused.  
“’M not hard on myself.”  
“Yes you are. Just minutes ago you referred to your panic attacks as ‘spazzing out,’ and I hate to hear you say that.”  
“I don't mean it to come out that way, it's just how I address it.” Crowley sipped his whiskey.  
“But would you refer to Beez’s troubles as that? Or mine?” Ezra asked.  
“...No.”  
“Then why do you only belittle your own issues?”  
“I dunno angel, I just-” Crowley paused, looking for his words. Ezra folded his hands in his lap, legs hanging off the countertop. “I’ve always referred to them like that. It's what my-” Crowley's mouth shut quickly and he looked a bit taken back.  
“...That's what my dad called ‘em.”  
“Oh Crowley.” Ezra sighed, feeling tremendously troubled on Crowley's behalf all the sudden.  
“Don't feel sorry for me Angel, I can tell by that look you’re empathizing with me.” Crowley laughed weakly, looking down in his glass.  
“I know, I don't mean to belittle you like that, but I can't imagine how terrible that must have been. Your own father being so cruel to you about something you can't control.”  
“I was just a kid at the time Ezra, it's not like it was just yesterday that he said these things to me.”  
“But you were just a child, Crowley!” Ezra frowned. “You shouldn't have had to deal with something like that. Being told that your troubles weren’t valid.”  
Crowley looked blankly at him.  
“Yeah, I guess not, huh?” He said quietly.  
“You need to stop blaming yourself for what's happened to you," said Ezra. "And I say this with the utmost sincerity, Crowley, that you need to take that forgivingness towards others and begin to forgive yourself."  
Crowley looked like he was going to rebuttal, but didnt say anything back.  
"Do you understand?" Ezra repeated, softley.  
“Yeah... Okay.” Crowley swallowed.


	18. Somniferum Papaver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somniferum Papaver or "White Poppies" differ from red poppies, as this specific spawn are regarded as symbols of dreams and consultation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *CW\TW for this (brief) chapter:   
> -mentions of trauma\panic attacks  
> -and also NSFW themes (implied but not *currently* elaborated on) ;)

Crowley

It was rare that Crowley ever had good dreams, let alone any dreams at all. When he did manage dream, they were usually awful collages of pictures from his past, feelings he never wanted to feel again coming back all at once and visions of images he wished to unsee. He had woken up more than he counted while living with Beez, out of breath and in tremors. There was one specific time when he had such a violent nightmare early on in their friendship that Beez actually came barging into his room and woke him up.

_ “Crowley what the fuck are you doing?! Its fuckin’ two o' clock in the bloody morning!” Beez slammed the door open, looking half asleep and more than irritated, as well as ridiculously small in their oversized slipknot hoodie. When they saw the state Crowley was in however, it became utterly clear that their roommate wasn’t being loud for no reason. _

_ “Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you.” Beez said, instantly losing their aggressive demeanor. Crowley had been sitting on the edge of his bed, completely out of breath and face tear stained. He didn't even remember what his dream was, just that it had woken him up mid panic attack. _

_ “No, n-no, it's fine.” Crowley wiped his face with his sleeve, not looking directly at Beez. _

_ “Can I do something?” Beez asked cautiously, not sure of what they should be doing. _

_ “I uh… I don't know. Just dont leave.” _ _   
_ _ “Don't leave?” beez had repeated, confused. _

_ “Yeah… No. I-I can't stay alone. Please Beez.” Crowley managed, shivering despite the apartment being perfectly warm. He knew asking Beez to stay with him was something completely and utterly out of character for the two of them, especially for Beez, who never got affectionate or soppy or anything of the sort. Though, Beez did manage to surprise him when they sat down next to him and kept by his side for the rest of the night. He could tell Beez felt uncomfortable, sitting next to such a hot mess that had abruptly disrupted their precious sleep, but they did it anyways, no questions asked, and had never brought it up again.  _

This time around, Crowley was comfortable, as he immediately knew he was in Ezra's apartment. It had the same aesthetic and arguably just the same number of books in it as the real apartment, if not more. The only noticeable changes were assortments of plants scattered about, elegantly placed and potted. He could immediately recognise most of them as common daisies and hyacinths. As he walked slowly through the still apartment, running his hands along the edges of the bookshelves, he reached the rear of the apartment where there was a familiar love seat and accompanying office chair. Sitting in that chair, was of course, Ezra, who looked up gleefully up from his novel at Crowley with his bright eyes.

“Hello dear.” He smiled fondly.

“Hi Angel.” He replied, crossing the room. the closer he got to Ezra, the more he noticed some differences. Ezra seemed a bit older, perhaps in his forties, and his hair was a bit shorter than it usually was. Nonetheless, it was still distinctively Ezra. He leaned down and kissed Ezra, who ran a hand through his hair, which felt… short?  _ Did dream Crowley have short hair? Eh, doesn't matter.  _ Their kiss swiftly deepend, and Ezra's hands travelled from his hair down to the lapels of his coat. Ezra made a soft noise as Crowley moved, kissing right under his jaw as if he had done this to him a hundred times before. Ezra's book fell to the floor as Crowley crawled up onto his lap, straddling him effortlessly. 

“Good lord Crowley, what's gotten into you?” Ezra asked, drawing Crowley's attention off his jawline. “Listen darling, as much as I’d like to be ravished, we’ll be late for the Ritz if we wait any longer.”

“Ugh, fine.” Crowley had to essentially pull himself off of Ezra.  _ Since when can we eat at the bloody Ritz? No way I can afford that. Unless this is after I get my inheritance or something. _ Crowley thought to himself, waiting for Ezra to grab his coat. He helped him put it on, and was rewarded with a small kiss on the cheek, and the two of them headed towards the front of the building, Ezra holding the red doors for Crowley who walked through.

The second he passed through the threshold of the doors, he was back in bed in his hotel room, tangled up in his bedsheets. The hotel alarm clock on the bedside table glowed “1:11” in big red letters. Crowley sat up a bit against the headboard, before realising that he was half hard in his boxers. 

“For fucks sake…”


	19. Narcissus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissus flowers (or better known as classic daffodils) represent good news and delightful conversions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Referenced NSFW

  
  


Ezra

Ezra was greeted early morning on Monday right outside of the Colleum by Anathema.

“Is everything okay now?” she asked, pulling down her knit scarf so she could talk more clearly.

“Yes, everything's been resolved now.”

“Good- Newt said that everything seemed okay when he checked on you two, but I wanted to hear it myself.” Ezra held the door open for her, and the two of them walked into the Lobby.

“Is it okay if I asked what happened?” she asked, walking next to him. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“It's quite alright dear, Crowley and I talked about addressing this over whiskey yesterday afternoon. Crowley had a panic attack that night following some events that occured, and I needed to make sure he was okay.”

“That's awful nice of you Ezra, I’m sure he’s very happy to have such a good friend.”  
Anathema studied Ezra's face for a moment, before stopping and letting out a gasp.

“YOU DIDN’T.” She smiled. Ezra couldn’t help but grin back. “Are you officially dating?!”

“I suppose you could say that.” 

“I'm so happy for you, Ezra!” Anathema enthused. “I know I teased you about dating him earlier, but you’re actually dating him now! Good for you!” Anathema continued walking towards the front desk.

“I had no idea you were such a stud, Ezra!”  
“Anathema!” Ezra shushed her, following close behind. His face felt hot with embarrassment. “If I knew you were going to be ‘enthusiastic’ about all this, perhaps I would have waited until we weren’t inside a building!”

“Sorry Ezra- I can't help it.” She grinned smugly, fixing her round glasses. The two of them punched into the time card machine and walked into the actual office, only to find it in an odd juxtaposition from its usual environment.

“That's odd.” Ezra mumbled to himself, looking around. Everyone in the work room seemed relaxed. Nobody was tucked behind their desks like usual, but rather floating around from desk to desk in a similar manner to what Anathema and Ezra regularly did. Anathema tapped on an intern's shoulder.

“Excuse me, what's going on?” She asked, clearly as lost as Ezra.

“Gabriel isn't in today. Would you believe that?” The intern said, continuing to walk freely throughout the office. Ezras jaw nearly dropped. _Gabriel is never absent from work. Did something happen? Where could he be?_

“Ezra, did you know Gabriel was going to be out today?” Anathema asked, following Ezra to his desk.

“I hadn’t a single clue. Where do you think he’s gone?”  
Anathema shrugged. “Beats me, but if I were you I’d take today to catch up on your work.’” She smiled, patting Ezra's shoulder and walking herself back to the lobby. On that queue, Ezra sat down and took out the book he kept stored in his work coat, and began to read freely. 

“Isn't it incredible how one Gabriel-less day can change the whole office?” Asked Anathema. The two of them had taken advantage of their unique work day ,leaving an hour early for their lunch breaks and walking to a small restaurant a half block from the Coliseum.

“It is amazing. Though I’m not surprised. He seems to always put the office in such a tizzy.” Ezra folded his napkin again and again on his lap as Anathema took out her cellular phone and answered a message.

“Do you think I should invest in one of those?” Ezra asked hesitantly. Anathema looked up at him.

“Absolutely, Ezra. I've been telling you that you needed an iphone for the last year and a half! Why do you suddenly want one all the sudden?” Anathema narrowed her eyes, regaining that complacent look she always had. “Is it because of _Crowley?_ ” 

“Perhaps…” Ezra answered quickly, not bothering to play into Anathema's game.

“Why do you always have to snub me with the answers, Fell?” Anathema rolled her eyes at him, earning herself a chuckle.

“If I told you too much, you wouldn't find any fun in teasing me anymore.” Said Ezra. 

“Fine,” She huffed, losing her resolve. “I'm not going to fight you with this, Ezra. Anything to get you to ditch that flip phone of yours.” She proceeded to explain the differences between brands and models of phones to Ezra for a good half hour or so. The whole concept was entirely confusing to him, as he would easily just stick with his sixteen year old flip phone and its complementary rotary phone. But he knew if he wanted any chance to call Crowley while at work, or to do anything modern, he would have to sacrifice one of the two. He decided that he should probably ditch the flip phone, as the rotary in his apartment was an antique he liked using. He figured he could use that one as a ‘home phone’ of sorts, and if he ever did invest in one of these newfangled iphones, that would be his mobile device. Eventually their lunch break at the little restaurant stretched long enough, and Ezra and Anathema split the bill and headed back to the office. Ezra had an awful superstition that Gabriel would spontaneously reappear once they arrived back at work, an hour and a half late from returning from their lunch break- but his fear was quickly resolved once they got inside the building and realised it was still Gabriel-free. _How lovely._

-

As the work day melted away, Ezra called Anthony off of the work phone to see if he would be able pick him up. It was hard to make out what Crowley was saying over Anathemas jabbering. Usually, anathema was not so chatty, but Ezra supposed he couldn't blame her for being excited. (Afterall, If his best friend got a date after nearly a decade of being single, he would be ecstatic as well.) From what he heard, Crowley was free to pick him up after work, and by the time five PM rolled around, there was a big black Bentley parked outside of the Coliseum. Ezra opened the passenger door and was greeted with the loud blaring of rock n roll. 

“Shit, sorry.” Crowley lowered the volume on his dashboard. Ezra chuckled.

“It's quite alright, dear.” he slid into the passenger seat. Crowley waited until Ezra had buckled his seat belt before pulling into the road. Of course, being five o'clock in central London on a Monday, the streets were packed full of people and vehicles stuck in traffic, Crowley’s Bentley being no exception. 

“So how was work at the press?” Crowley asked, one hand on the steering wheel. 

“My boss isn't in today, so it was quite nice to get a change of scenery.”  
“Is he really that much of a bloke?” 

“Gabriel is quite overbearing to say the least.” Replied Ezra. “The whole office seemed much more at ease without him looming over everyone. He can be very suffocating at times.”

“I suppose that’ll be one perk of me opening up the plant shop,” said Crowley, “I won't have a boss. I’ll be the highest on the food chain.”  
“Speaking of the shop, have you given any thought to what you’ll be naming it?”   
“Not yet, no. I’m sure I’ll come up with something when the time comes.” Crowley smoothed his hair back.

“Hey Angel, I got a weird question for you.”  
“What is it?” Ezra asked, feeling curious.

“Have you ever been to the Ritz?” Asked Crowley. 

“The Ritz as in _the_ Ritz?” Ezra repeated.

“Yeah.”  
“No, I can't say I have. I’d love to go someday, but I imagine it’ll be incredibly expensive.”   
“Maybe once I get the shop up and running or if my inheritance comes in then I’ll take you there.” Crowley stated casually.

“That would be lovely, but I can't have you spending your inheritance on trips to the Ritz.” Said Ezra firmly.

“So what if it's expensive, Angel? I don't mind.”  
“Crowley, have you ever even _seen_ the Ritz before? It's essentially second to Buckingham palace!”   
“As a matter of fact, I have _seen_ the Ritz before, I’ve even been in it briefly, granted it was during-” Crowley caught his tongue, cutting himself off.

“During what?” asked Ezra.

“Angel,” Crowley turned to face Ezra, lowering his glasses to show his golden irises. “Have you heard of ‘Sink the Pink?’”

Ezras jaw dropped, and channeling his inner Anathema, he promptly gasped. “You did not.”  
Crowley's face broke into a goofy smile. “Yes I have.”   
“Crowley, you’ve been in the Ritz during _Sink the bloody pink?_ As in _the_ street party?”   
“Yeah, it was a while ago though.” Crowley admitted, looking Ezra up and down. “Don't be so shocked, Angel.”   
“I'm not I just… Didn't see you as such a partygoer.”

“Heh, if you think that was a bit much you should have seen me at college parties.” Crowley chuckled as Ezra mentally pictured his date doing a keg stand. The traffic jam slowly began to move forwards a bit on the street.

“I’ll take you next year if you want,” said Crowley to a very flabbergasted Ezra.

“I can say ‘yes’ to the Ritz as of now, but I'm afraid I’ll have to think about _that_ offer.” Ezra felt himself blushing at the idea of potentially attending such a remarkably scandalous event accompanied by Crowley. 

“No rush.” Crowley shrugged. 

Crowley

Crowley’s experience at ‘Sink the pink’ was a very vivid one, unlike some of the other memories he had from back in school. He had managed to take one of his little weekend trips with Beez back in his third year of college to come down to London. Granted, they didn't come specifically for Sink the Pink, but it was occurring at the same time during their visit. Having no other plans than to drink the hotel mini bar dry, Beez and Crowley went downtown. Thinking back to it now, Crowley could easily see how Sink the pink could be overwhelming to someone like Ezra, who preferred their own individualised solstice, but frankly, Crowley had enjoyed it. As a matter of fact, even Beez enjoyed it- so much so that Crowley lost their roommate to the crowd of colorful figures. Not that he was worried, though, as Beez wasn't the kind you typically had to worry about. Crowley dodged his way mindlessly through the crowd, feeling incredibly under dressed compared to the rest of his party goers. The speakers placed alongside the edges of the closed down street switched between ‘ABBA’ and ‘Queen,’ and any concerns Crowley had at the time melted away. Fast forwards a few hours, (and what had to be more than a few drinks later,) a very drunk Crowley was getting railed in a nearby apartment by another equally drunk partygoer. Definitely wasn't his proudest moment, but fun nonetheless. But now, sitting in the Bentley next to Ezra, Crowley almost felt ashamed being so vulnerable about having attended the street party, and while Ezra did seem surprised by his attendance, he was far from disgusted in him, but rather seemed a bit thrilled and blown away by it. Crowley didn't even feel the need to fully elaborate on what happened that night, as Ezra just seems to understand from the get go. _Just another thing to like about him._

  
  



	20. Semperflorens cultorum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as "Wax Begonias," these plants are regarded as symbols of reflection.

Ezra

As the rest of the week slipped away, Gabriel never came back to the office- not that Ezra was complaining. Apparently he had gotten swept up in some family related issues back In America, where he was from. Gabriel’s absence at work provided Ezra with extra free time to sit and read at his desk all whilst being accompanied by Anathema. She helped him order an iPhone online, and explained to him that it would probably be delivered to his apartment within the next week or so. Ezra was in no rush to get the device, but he figured it would be easier to call Crowley on that than use the work phone every day to get a ride home. He felt a bit guilty getting Crowley to drive him home every afternoon, but Crowley insisted it was fine. 

“I don’t mind Angel. I don’t have much better to do until the Shop opens.” He said as Ezra climbed into the Bentley. 

“Are you sure, dear? I don’t mean to tear you away from your shop preparations.” 

“Of course I’m sure. We are technically dating after all.” Crowley gave Ezra a cheeky grin with the statement that made Ezra blush as the car roared to life. 

“Anyways, has your boss come back to the Colleum yet?” Crowley asked. He had begun to drive faster more recently, frequently dipping over the speed limit, and while it did make Ezra a bit worried he’d get ticketed again, he knew Crowley was a good driver- Even if he was a speed demon. 

“No, not yet. It’s probably for the better, though. Work is a lot more bearable when he’s absent.” Ezra replied, fixing the collar of his work shirt. Crowley began to extend the conversation to lightly talk about someone he had seen downtown earlier on the way to pick Ezra up. As much as Ezra tried to listen, he kept becoming frequently distracted as he found himself staring at Crowley. _He really is quite handsome,_ Ezra thought to himself. _And even though he always wears black, he makes it work quite well._ The Bentley pulled up alongside the street where the shop and the apartment were nestled. 

“I gotta head back to the hotel, Angel- I’m supposed to call my accountant about bills for the shop.” Crowley said.

“That’s alright.” Ezra replied. Crowley went to say something else but dismissed the motive when Ezra boldly leaned over the Bentley's gear stick and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Crowley froze mid sentence, seemingly shocked. 

“See you later, Crowley.” Ezra smiled, hopping out of the car on a rush of adrenaline. 

Crowley

  
  


Crowley's brain completely short circuited once Ezra left the car. They had kissed before, sure, but both times were after copious amounts of alcohol. That kiss was completely sober, not to mention that Ezra was the one initiating it. _I guess I'm not going too fast for him, huh?_ Crowley couldn't help but smile as he watched Ezra walk in his apartment. He looked up and down the street, and seeing no cars were coming, did a U-ie in the road, heading back towards his hotel. Several pedestrians on the sidewalk gave him irritated glares, but Crowley couldn't give a damn if he tried. _Ezra had kissed him- and so casually too!_ If it weren’t for the whole ‘taking it slow’ bit, Crowley would have snogged him right then and there- but even a little kiss was progress. _I haven't felt this good in a long time._ Stuck at an intersection, Crowley turned on the cassette player. It spurred for a second before playing mid song.

_I'm hungry for your touch_

_There's so much left unspoken._

_And All I can do is surrender,_

_To the moment your surrender._

_How Ironic._ Crowley smirked, not bothering to change the song. All the storefronts in London had begun to change over to their holiday displays, which did look tacky to Crowley, but was nice all around. _Never decorated for christmas growing up._ Crowley thought to himself. They only had ever decorated back before his mother, _mam,_ he called her, had passed away. He could almost bring himself to remember when she had gone out of her way to string up festive lights outside the house, and her helping him decorate the tree. He could nearly recall when his dad would help them light a fire and hang his stocking over the mantle piece. Those memories seemed so warm, golden and nostalgic- and yet so incredibly distant, like it was lifetimes ago. For all he knew, it could have never happened. The whole thing could've just been a figment of his imagination. Crowley pulled forwards once the light changed and continued to drive. _Ezra mentioned something about the holidays. I think he said he visits his family during them._ Crowley thought about the idea of going over west to Wales with Ezra, but sincerely doubted that would happen. _His folks dont want to see their kid come home with some baggy looking bloke for the holidays, and besides- Ezra said they weren’t too keen on our kind of ‘lifestyle.’ Or at least that's what I’m getting out of all this._ Crowley adjusted his glasses so that the passing christmas lights outside the Bentley didn't hurt his eyes anymore. _I’ll just have to wait and see. I might just be spending Christmas alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: "One year of Love" by (you guessed it, folks!) Queen!


End file.
